


Slashing Lines

by thecommodore_squid (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Amputation, Angst, Blackmail, Bucky Barnes Feels, Depression, Everyone is a brotp, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nerd!Bucky, No Graphic Descriptions of Sex, Reference to Underage Activities, Steve Rogers Feels, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thecommodore_squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bottom line was that Bucky had two perfectly decent friends and he did not need anyone else ever.</p><p>Definitely.</p><p>Especially not the new kid.</p><p>The really fucking hot new kid.</p><p>AKA<br/>A high school AU that is not strictly a high school AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slashing Lines

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically how this happened was we were reading Much Ado About Nothing in class and I was like, wow this would make a GREAT high school AU. And then I was like, Thor and Loki would TOTALLY be Don Pedro and Don John. This fic was the result of that train of thought. So, technically speaking, it's like an AU of an AU. Idek guys JUST LET IT HAPPEN.
> 
> This also happens to be the first fic I've ever posted, so be gentle with me. I do plan on continuing to post fic though, since I really did enjoy writing this.
> 
> So, without further ado...
> 
> I hope you guys like it.

* * *

So Bucky Barnes sort of low-key hated everyone that attended his boring-ass high school.

 

Mostly, anyways.

 

He did surround himself with Natasha Romanoff and Pepper Potts because, please, Bucky wasn’t going to live out high school like some sort of fucking crotchety hermit.

 

He had class.

 

No pun intended.

 

So Bucky Barnes let himself work through high school as a crotchety hermit with his two friends. They both totally understood and reciprocated the sentiment that they were using each other solely for convenience and academic intent.

 

Like group projects.

 

Bucky fucking hated group projects.

 

But Natasha and Pepper were in enough of his classes that he usually was able to get through them with his typical high standards. He could very well still get an A on projects when coupled with the lower-achieving kids, but he definitely preferred Pepper’s near-crazed organization and Natasha’s no-nonsense rationality.

 

But Bucky did like his friends. Pepper pretty much destroyed misogynists on a daily basis and Natasha was terrifying in such a dry, funny way that it complimented his own weird sense of humor.

 

The bottom line was that Bucky had two perfectly decent friends and he did not need anyone else ever.

 

Definitely

  

Especially not the new kid.

 

The really fucking hot new kid.

 

Said new kid was tiny, wearing some dorky black glasses that took up half his face, a plaid shirt, and a pair of godforsaken khakis like he was secretly an old man. Something in the pull of his mouth and the glint in his eyes made Bucky stop cold as he walked into AP Literature.

 

The kid gave Bucky a challenging look, cocking his head to the side.

 

Bucky immediately flushed, ducking his head and dropping his books with fumbling hands in the desk next to Natasha.

 

Natasha fucking _smirked_ at him. “Blondie got game, huh?”

 

Bucky scrubbed his hand through his long hair. “Uh...”

 

Thankfully, class started before Nat could embarrass him further.

 

“Quiet down, guys,” Mr. Coulson said sternly as he rose from his desk. “I know you’re all excited to see your friends after the break, but don’t get too excited.”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes in his peripheral.

 

(But contrary to popular belief, she did give a shit about this class.)

 

“First order of business, I’m sure you already know that S.S.R. High is merging with S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, and we’re getting a lot of new students as a result. You may have already met a few of them, but we have the opportunity to introduce Steven Rogers right now.”

 

The glasses kid raised his hand halfway before saying, “You can call me Steve.”

 

A jolt went down Bucky’s spine and he gave Natasha a wide-eyed look. Because holy fucking shit his voice was deep.

 

Deeper than expected, definitely.

 

But Bucky _was not_ complaining.

 

Mr. Coulson continued, “Right, Steve. Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves. And since we’re staying relevant to the class, tell us your name, your favorite book, and why.”

 

Bucky let out a small, displeased sound. Mr. Coulson sent him a look. “Is there a problem, James?”

 

Bucky winced. “Sorry, no. Just. I can’t easily pick a favorite book,” he said, trying to present a disarming smile.

 

“Then just pick one you like, okay?”

 

Steve started the introductions game in that frankly ridiculous voice of his, and his favorite book was some fancy memoir that nobody had ever heard of. Bucky decided on _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ , for self-explanatory reasons, since that book was genius.

 

Steve eyed him politely while he smoothly talked through his explanation, better with words once he started to wake up a little bit.

 

When the discussion moved on, Natasha leaned over and hissed, “Blondie was totally checking you out.”

 

Bucky resisted the urge to throw something at her.

 

 

 

Steve quickly found Tony on his way to the daunting cafeteria.

 

“I fucking hate this school,” Tony grumbled without preamble.

 

“Already?” Steve muttered dryly, not surprised.

 

Tony just gave a jerky nod. “Absolute, fucking morons. All of them. Even you, Gramps.”

 

“Please stop calling me that,” Steve sighed, dropping his head back with a groan.

 

Tony grinned. “Not a chance.”

 

Thor and Loki found them jamming into one side of a booth. Thor slammed his tray on the other side of the table a little too forcefully as he beamed. “How is your first day thus far, my friends?”

 

Loki wrinkled his nose as he sat next to Thor in a huff.

 

Steve lifted a shoulder. “I miss Peggy.”

 

At the same time, Tony announced, “My brain is decomposing.”

 

Thor grinned. “I am certain that things will begin looking up! Loki?”

 

Loki narrowed his eyes. “No.”

 

Knowing that Thor and his brother were probably about to start arguing, Steve turned to Tony. “Did you have any classes with a guy names James Barnes?”

 

Tony frowned. “Yeah. He’s my oddly competent lab partner in physics.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“Eh, the kid’s smart. Kind of grumpy. Not like a _you_ kind of grumpy, but like a stray cat whose been woken up too soon grumpy.”

 

Steve nudged Tony with his elbow. “Be nice,” he admonished

 

“I am nice!” Tony said shrilly, throwing his hands up. “Totally completely nice! The nicest!”

 

Steve massaged his temples.

 

“Anyways, if you’re making a lame attempt at asking if I think James is bangable, then I’d say sure. If you like that sort of thing.”

 

Steve pursed his lips. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Grandpa, I’m just saying that James is definitely not my type, what with the punk rocker hair and emo clothes and shit.” Tony’s face that crumpled into a vicious scowl. “And you know what else? That girl he’s friends with is not my type either.”

 

“Um.”

 

“I mean, is she hot? _Yeah_. Smart? Hella. But she’s like... mean.”

 

“Tony,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Guess what this girl did? She like actually _insulted_ me. To my face.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was about your face.”

 

“Oh, hey, now...” Tony complained with a pout.

 

“That’s the one,” Steve agreed, snickering.

 

Tony suddenly turned to their other friends, whining, “Uncle Odinsons! Mom’s being an abusive parent.”

 

Thor actually looked concerned. “Steven?”

 

Tony interjected again. “He insulted my aesthetic!”

 

Steve snorted mockingly.

 

Loki just frowned. “Eat your vegetables, Stark.”

 

That shut Tony up as he grumbled and speared a limp piece of broccoli with his fork.

 

 

 

Bucky wasn’t staring.

 

At anyone.

 

Or even a specific human.

 

Definitely not Steve Rogers.

 

Why would Bucky Barnes ever stare at Steve Rogers and his dumb golden hair and smug smile laden with mirth and those adorable glasses and-

 

“Barnes,” Pepper snapped disapprovingly.

 

Bucky shook his head. “Huh?”

 

“You are _staring_.”

 

Bucky shook his head. “I am not.”

 

“You were staring at him during AP Lit,” Natasha added.

 

“I was not-“

 

“He’s cute. He’d be cuter if he wasn’t friends with _Tony Fucking Stark_ ,” Pepper observed.

 

As soon as Pepper had laid eyes on the guy upon sitting in front of his and Bucky’s table in physics, “Anthony Stark” had immediately become “ _Tony Fucking Stark_.”

 

Natasha eyed Pepper skeptically. “You like his hair,” she stated.

 

Pepper wrinkled her nose. “His hair, along with the rest of him, sucks, because he’s an asshole, and nobody should ever have to experience the raw cruelty of meeting _Tony Fucking Stark_.”

 

Bucky grinned. “Not even Obediah?”

 

Pepper’s face pulled into an uneasy displeasure, but she reluctantly maintained, “I wouldn’t wish that kind of inhumane torture on anyone.”

 

Natasha tisked, joining in. “Not even Killian?”

 

Pepper full-on grimaced. “Even he does not deserve _Tony Fucking Stark’s_ wrath.”

 

Bucky and Natasha giggled. “I’m holding that against you forever,” Bucky informed her.

 

Natasha leaned towards him and stage-whispered, “Especially when she and Stark get married.”

 

Pepper’s look of utter mortification sent them into a tizzy of laughter as she protested, “Okay, guys, that was too far! Never in all my life would I even entertain the notion of being with someone as adulterating, as insensitive, and as immature as _Tony Fucking Stark_.”

 

“Alright, we get it,” Bucky gasped.

 

Pepper narrowed her eyes. “You two distracted me from reprimanding James.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It’s not-“

 

“I don’t approve of him. Steve Rogers, right? Yeah, don’t do that to yourself. For one thing, he was totally dating Peggy Carter before she left for some fancy prep school in London, so he’s probably straight as a ruler. And for another thing, he’s friends with _Tony Fucking_ -“

 

“Okay, I get it. Relax, Pepper. I just find him visually pleasing. It’s no big deal. It’s not like I’m planning our summer wedding or anything.”

 

Natasha snorted gracelessly at the imagery from that statement.

 

 

 

So, Bucky wasn’t interested or anything.

 

But he did happen to be stalking Peggy Carter’s timeline on Facebook.

 

For science.

 

Or something.

 

There was a (quite frankly) disgustingly adorable picture of Steve and Peggy’s cheeks squished together in a selfie where Steve’s glasses were slightly askew, and they both looked really happy.

 

And Bucky could admit that Peggy was beautiful. See that right there? That’s what they call motherfucking character growth.

 

Every indication to the Steggy Relationship was pretty much postcard worthy. Or tragic romance worthy. If this were a romance, Bucky would’ve known instantly that the estranged sweethearts would meet up again sometime after college, both of them not who they had been in their youth, but their love never failing. That’s how it always happened.

 

But as it did happen, real life was allowing Bucky to potentially have a chance to try and maybe be Steve’s-

 

Wait.

 

Where did _that_ come from?

 

Bucky shook his head, mouse hovering over the link that would take him to Steve’s Facebook page. Bucky wasn’t naive. He knew clicking that link would be admitting that he definitely found Steve very attractive and was definitely thinking about him too much for a guy he’d not even had a conversation with.

 

God, what was wrong with him?

 

Bucky puffed out a frustrated breath and closed the tab, pulling out his phone to annoy his friends in their group text.

 

James: What if Steve’s bi?

 

Natasha: ;D

 

Pepper: This is a strictly-for-work group text, Barnes.

 

Natasha: :|

 

James: You wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the gossip if it were about Tony Stark...

 

Pepper: HOW DARE YOU

 

Natasha: ;)

 

Pepper: NAT WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON

 

Natasha: :O

 

James: Nat quit it with the emoticons

 

Natasha: :’(

 

Bucky smiled down at his phone, the glow comforting in the gloom of his bedroom. He’d finished all his homework for the night, which wasn’t much considering it had only been one day since winter break ended.

 

He flopped back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and resolutely _not thinking of Steve_.

 

Natasha: JAMES LIKES STEVE

 

Natasha: Sorry that was Clint :P

 

Bucky scowled down at his phone.

 

James: Tell Clint that I do not.

 

Natasha: :3

 

Bucky needed a hobby.

 

 

 

Bucky had AP Lit and AP Euro with Steve Rogers.

 

Usually in AP Lit, Bucky was still dead to the world and practically raccoon-eyed, hair a complete mess. He told himself that it was like an attractive mess, but it really wasn’t and everyone knew it. He ended up tying his too-long hair into a knot at the back of his head, getting unreasonably annoyed when the inevitable strands broke free and curled onto his cheeks.

 

You know what Bucky should totally do?

 

He should just fucking cut off all his hair.

 

And then shave everything.

 

So that he’d look like a pink alien.

 

God, nobody should ever trust Bucky with his own life decisions.

 

Anyway, his grumpy demeanor during first period meant that he usually just angrily narrated Steve’s actions in his head when he was safe to let his mind wander.

 

_That’s right. I’m just gonna fucking twirl my goddamn beautiful mechanical fucking pencil in my fucking artist hands- what the fuck who even actually has artist hands like what the actual fuck, this is-_

 

“James,” Natasha hissed, “you’re staring again. And in that psychotic way we were talking about earlier?”

 

Bucky hunched his shoulders. “Leave me alone.”

 

And then Bucky would have AP Euro with Steve after lunch; only Steve had friends in this class.

 

It was like watching him in his natural habitat, which: okay, creepy. But Bucky got to see a whole different side of him, especially when it became clear that history was one of Steve’s favorite subjects.

 

Today was the first day that Steve had started an argument with the teacher, Dr. Schmidt.

 

Dr. Schmidt was a motherfucker who Bucky hated with a passion, but he’d never ever argued against his skewed opinions.

 

Today he was ranting about World War II, and the possible ways that Germany could have won had Hitler not been so “stupid.” Bucky happened to glance over to see that Steve was furious, a furrow between his brows and a tightness in his lips.

 

And then Dr. Schmidt made the mistake of saying, “The atomic bomb was the best thing that has ever happened to Japan.”

 

Yeah. Bucky was used to the abhorrent bullshit that Schmidt constantly spewed, but Steve definitely was not.

 

His hand curled into a fist on his desk as he snapped, “You cannot _honestly_ be saying this crap-“

 

Dr. Schmidt leveled a gaze at him. “Mr. Rogers. Care to start a debate?”

 

“It’s really not a debate if you’re saying the atomic bomb was ‘the best thing to happen to’-“

 

“Steven,” Schmidt cut in. “If you are not going to argue in a civil manner then do not argue at all.”

 

Fuming, Steve spat out, “Fine,” and pushed out of his desk, storming from the room and leaving the class silent.

 

Bucky was having difficulty admitting that that had been crazy attractive.

 

He didn’t have a crush.

 

If that’s what anyone was assuming.

 

Nope.

 

 

 

Clint jumped onto one of the tables near Bucky, Natasha, and Pepper. “GO TO PROM WITH ME?” he shouted.

 

Natasha scowled, standing and yanking him down to ground level. “I hate you,” she muttered, planting a kiss on him in front of the whole school.

 

Clint gave a dopey smile. “Awww, Tasha.”

 

“That was the lamest promposal I’ve ever seen.”

 

Clint looked at her sheepishly. “I got you a necklace too... If you want it.”

 

He presented a chain being interrupted by a sleek, silver arrow pendant.

 

Natasha feigned disinterest, but Bucky saw the flash of delight in her eyes as she gingerly took it from Clint’s calloused hands. “Thanks,” she murmured, pecking him on the cheek.

 

Clint beamed.

 

Natasha turned to Bucky and Pepper. “I’m gonna go eat lunch with this trash.”

 

“Use protection,” Bucky said mildly as they left.

 

“And then there were two,” Pepper muttered.

 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Tony’ll ask soon,” Bucky offered cheekily.

 

Pepper took a violent swig from her water bottle. “I. Do not. Like him.”

 

“And Steve Rogers is going to ask me to marry him. Sure,” Bucky mocked.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” they both heard, and froze.

 

Bucky slowly turned around to find Loki Odinson frowning at them speculatively. He stared at Bucky for a long moment before jerking his head in a little nod and turning to his own booth.

 

“What the fuck,” Bucky murmured numbly.

 

“What the fuck,” Pepper echoed.

 

“That was weird as fuck.”

 

“No shit.”

 

No shit.

 

 

 

Thor was grinning at Steve as he slid into his booth. “I have a glorious idea, Steven.”

 

Steve gave Thor a suspicious look. “Uh?”

 

“Remember our dear friend, James?”

 

AKA stupidly attractive nerd with stupid hair. “Yes?” he answered slowly.

 

“You two are going to prom together,” he announced.

 

Tony burst into laughter. “That’s about as likely as me asking _Pepper Fucking Potts_ to prom.”

 

Everyone at the table groaned in distress. “Please stop talking about her,” Steve begged. “I need a break from your ceaseless whining.”

 

“You should just ask her,” Loki muttered.

 

“Do us all the favor,” Thor agreed.

 

Tony gave them an incredulous look. “I have no idea what you are talking about. What are you talking about?”

 

Loki’s tone took on a taunting imitation of Tony’s voice. “Oh, Pepper Potts, with her stupid beautiful hair and her infuriatingly insightful responses!”

 

“I don’t follow,” Tony said blankly.

 

Steve’s head dropped onto the table. “Denial...”

 

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I don’t have to deal with this.” He rose from his seat, chin lifted. “I’m rich.” And then strode away to who-knows-where.

 

Thor leaned in conspiratorially after he disappeared. “My plan has just expanded.” He glanced around theatrically. “Tony will go with Pepper to prom.”

 

Steve sighed. “Look, I know the whole school is all abuzz after Clint’s little stunt, but he just wanted to be the first promposal. It wasn’t even clever and it’s barely even March. Don’t you think this is a little preemptive?”

 

“We will need time in order to smoothly execute the plan.”

 

“Great.”

 

Loki smiled. “I fully support this plan, for once, dear brother.” Thor grinned and slapped Loki on the back.

 

“Steven, you must talk to James and Natasha. The plan will not work without their involvement.”

 

Steve gaped. “Why me?”

 

He was not whining. He had more dignity than that. Totally.

 

Thor gestured between him and Loki. “We do not have any classes with them. It would be odd for us to be the ones to approach them when you are a more viable option.”

 

Steve grumbled irritably to himself, sighing in resignation. “What do you want me to do, then?”

 

Thor perked up. “You must convince them to plant the idea of Tony’s affections for Pepper.”

 

“But Tony would never go for that?”

 

Loki’s mouth curled upwards. “That’s why we are going to talk about how much Pepper likes Tony.”

 

“So it’s like... reverse psychology?” Steve asked hesitantly.

 

“Precisely!” Thor boomed. “Are you up to the task?”

 

Steve shrugged. “I’m too sick of Tony’s obsession with her to not be.”

 

“Excellent,” Loki purred. “Get back to us with the results.”

 

 

 

Bucky was taking out his notebook for the start of history when someone sat in the seat next to him. He startled. Nobody usually sat there.

 

When he looked up, his jaw dropped open inelegantly.

 

Steve Rogers was busying himself with getting out his own notebook. “I need to talk to you,” he muttered without looking at him.

 

Bucky’s brain wasn’t cooperating. “Uh?”

 

“To you and Natasha,” he hurriedly amended.

 

“Uh?”

 

“Right. Okay. Meet me by the tennis courts after school.”

 

Schmidt walked into the room and barked something offensive at the class, so Steve fell silent.

 

Bucky couldn’t really concentrate for the rest of the day, though.

 

 

 

Bucky’s hands were shoved into the pockets of his hoodie as he and Natasha approached the tennis courts.

 

“So what is this all about, James?”

 

Bucky shrugged helplessly. “I don’t... know?”

 

Natasha gave him a look.

 

“It just doesn’t make sense. I’ve never even talked to the guy. Have you?”

 

“Not really. He’s in Clint’s art class, though. Apparently he’s a genius with paint and shit.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “Compared to Clint, anyone’s a genius.”

 

Natasha grinned. “Clint’s only doing art for Photoshop access. And he only pretends to be stupid.”

 

“Sure,” Bucky drawled sarcastically, letting Natasha entertain that fantasy.

 

Steve was sitting on the gross bench in front of the tennis courts, shoulders bunched up and a crease on his forehead. When he saw them, he abruptly straightened.

 

“Uh...” he began. “I believe we have a mutual problem.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows jumped up. Natasha smoothed out her poker face.

 

Steve absently scratched the back of his head, the light briefly reflecting off his glasses as he pushed them up his nose. “Tony and Pepper- they’ve gotta be stopped.”

 

Bucky let out a startled huff of laughter. “Oh. Right, that,” he mumbled to himself.

 

Steve nodded solemnly. “We’re trying to get them to go to prom together.”

 

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Why...?”

 

“Well, I don’t know about Pepper, but Tony very obviously likes her, in his own way.”

 

Bucky and Natasha exchanged glances. “Hm. It’s possible,” Bucky said slowly. “Pepper hasn’t really had a crush since Killian, so she may be responding to her emotions more negatively than she used to. Nat?”

 

She paused. “A valid hypothesis, Barnes. We’ll look into it, Steve.”

 

Steve opened his mouth to say something else, but hesitated. After a pause, he went on, “Thor’s got this idea.”

 

Bucky waved him on when he didn’t continue.

 

“He wants you two to sort of pull an Inception. He thinks that if you guys talk about how Tony likes her while she’s like eavesdropping or something, it’ll help nudge her into the right direction.”

 

Natasha thought for a moment. “That’s some careful strategy. James?”

 

Bucky give a nonchalant shrug. “We could do that.”

 

Steve gave a shy grin, which did things to the butterflies in Bucky’s stomach, but nobody had to know that. “We’re going to try and do the same thing to Tony. But we have to be careful about it and coordinate it so that the timing doesn’t result in disaster.”

 

Natasha chortled. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt, now wouldn’t-“

 

Natasha’s phone started ringing.

 

She gave Bucky a mildly confused look before fishing it out of her pocket and pressing it to her ear. “Yeah?” A pause. Natasha’s eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her forehead. “For fuck’s sake, Barton!” she snapped. “Again? Why the fuck do you insist on archery- yeah. I know. I _know_. Fine. Fuck. I’m coming.”

 

Natasha pocketed the phone and glared at Bucky. “Clint broke his nose again. I’m going to the hospital.”

 

Steve looked concerned. “How’d he manage that?”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “He was shooting arrows and accidentally punched himself in the face. Knocked himself out too.”

 

Bucky gave a full-body laugh, tipping his head back as his eyes crinkled. “Still think he’s smart, Nat?”

 

Natasha scowled. “I said smart, not coordinated. You two need to keep talking about getting Pepper and Tony together. I gotta go. Have fun.”

 

And with that, Natasha jogged off, quickening her pace as she headed for her car.

 

This left Bucky alone with Steve Rogers and trying not to panic like the socially inept teenager he was.

 

He glanced at him, playing at discreetness.

 

God, Bucky was _so_ not straight.

 

Steve was eying him nervously. “I hope Clint’s okay,” he said eventually.

 

Bucky cracked a smile. “Clint breaks something once a week. Don’t worry about him. He’s like a human dumpster.”

 

Steve grinned a little. “He can’t paint for shit.”

 

“He can’t do shit for shit,” Bucky agreed. “How he’s dating Natasha Romanoff, I have absolutely no idea.”

 

Steve cocked his head slightly. “Well, he does have a certain puppy dog charm about him. And he’s great at Photoshopping dicks onto people’s heads. Plus, he’s pretty attractive. Have you looked at his biceps?” Bucky raised an eyebrow as Steve ducked his head to hide a blush. “You know. Artistically speaking.”

 

Bucky couldn’t hide his smirk. “Oh, yes. Artistically speaking,” he echoed.

 

The red in Steve’s cheeks deepened. “Right.”

 

“I’d bang him,” Bucky admitted mildly.

 

Steve snorted. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

 

“True. I’d bang a lot of people.” (The lie felt natural. It was easier this way.)

 

They grinned at each other for a moment before Steve shook his head. “So, Tony and Pepper.”

 

“Tony and Pepper,” Bucky agreed, blinking back to the reality in which Steve Rogers was very heterosexual.

 

“I was thinking we should aim to plant the idea over spring break, so that their affections can properly manifest.”

 

Bucky nodded. “Sounds pretty good to me.” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and slapped it into Steve’s hand, meticulously making sure there was no skin contact. “Put your number in there and text me if you want to change something or specify details.”

 

Steve nodded and fished out his own phone for Bucky to input his number.

 

When they finished the exchange, there was nothing else to say. The boys hesitated for an awkward moment that lingered on for a few beats too long before they hastily beat a retreat to their rides home.

 

 

 

Bucky couldn’t use the excuse of not having had a conversation with Steve anymore.

 

And it was plain as day, really.

 

Bucky... _liked_ Steve.

 

Fuuuuuuuuuuucccckkkkkk.

 

Bucky hated _liking_ people.

 

He didn’t like being used, really.

 

There was this hot asshole named Brock Rumlow, who Bucky had totally been crushing on since freshmen year. Brock was a real shithead, and he knew it, but Bucky had been blinded by his smile and pecks.

 

Brock was a closet case, so when he and Bucky had started seeing each other during junior year, they’d kept it on the down low. Their relationship had mostly consisted of aggressive make out sessions where Brock used too much teeth. When Brock had tried taking things further than Bucky was comfortable with, the douchebag had dumped him and gotten nearly the whole school to start calling him a faggot.

 

So Bucky hated liking people.

 

(He’d never even told anyone about Brock.)

 

(If Natasha or Pepper knew, they’d kick Bucky’s ass and then kick Brock’s ass and it just wouldn’t be a pretty sight.)

 

So Bucky was sitting in his room, pointedly not sulking (definitely not, _shut up_ ), when Natasha’s name lit up the screen of his phone.

 

“Yeah?” he asked tiredly, picking up on the first ring.

 

“James.”

 

“Yes?”

 

There was a pause. “Clint’s fine, thanks for asking.” Bucky rolled his eyes, even though she couldn’t see him.

 

“I figured.”

 

Natasha huffed on the other end of the line. “How was your one-on-one with Steve?” she asked, too much of a smirk in her voice for Bucky to be entirely okay with.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“What? I can’t just be curious and friendly?” she said innocently.

 

Bucky raised his eyebrows to his empty room, dryly replying with a, “Hah.”

 

Natasha actually had the audacity to _giggle_. “Isn’t he cute? He’s exactly your type, James. It’s almost scary.”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about? How would you even know what my type is?”

 

“You know. Bitterly sarcastic assholes.”

 

“How the fuck would you gather that that’s my ‘type’?” Bucky demanded.

 

“Please. You chose me and Pepper as your friends. If you weren’t the gayest guy I’d ever met, you’d totally be in love with one of us.”

 

She had a point there. His friends were bitterly sarcastic assholes. Bucky sighed in resignation. “It’s too bad Steve Rogers is so heterosexual.”

 

Natasha paused. “And how did you come to that conclusion?” Her voice sounded weird. Bucky decided not to read into it.

 

“Peggy Carter.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Another weird pause.

 

“You know, I knew Peggy.”

 

Bucky sat up suddenly. “You did?”

 

Natasha snorted gracelessly. “Yes.  Not very well. We met at a party last year. She got really fucking drunk and told me her life’s story. Never spoke to her again. She probably doesn’t remember it.”

 

“And this is relevant because...?”

 

“Oh, no reason,” she said, far too gleefully for Bucky to trust.

 

“Nat...”

 

“Did you get Steve’s number? Text it to me right now. I’m hanging up. Bye.”

 

“Wait, Natasha-“

 

The line went dead.

 

Bucky took a deep breath and sent Natasha Steve’s number.

 

Natasha: ;P

 

Bucky rubbed a hand across his forehead.

 

James: We’re going to talk about your emoticon problem later. It must be stopped.

 

Natasha: >:)

 

Bucky hated everything.

 

 

 

Unknown Number: James gave me your number.

 

Steve glanced at his phone, balanced on his thigh next to his sketchbook.

 

Steve: Who is this?

 

Unknown Number: Your worst nightmare >:D

 

Unknown Number: Just kidding it’s Natasha.

 

Steve: Oh. Hi?

 

Natasha: Can I have Thor’s number pls?

 

Steve: Why?

 

Natasha: I have my reasons.

 

Steve sighed and opened a text message to Thor.

 

Steve: Is it okay if I give your number to Natasha Romanoff?

 

Thor: YES.

 

Steve smothered a smile. Thor, for whatever reason, always texted in caps.

 

Steve passed Thor’s number to Natasha, who merely replied with an innocent winky face.

 

He didn’t really want to think about what Natasha was plotting, but he was pretty sure she was plotting something.

 

He hoped it didn’t have anything to do with James. That would just be mean.

 

By now, Steve had done his research. Courtesy of Loki’s cunning talents, he knew pretty much every single rumor that had been spread about James Barnes.

 

He knew that one of these rumors was that James was gay.

 

Which, really.

 

Honestly.

 

Really.

 

To say the least, Steve never thought too much about that.

 

(Except, like, what if it was true?)

 

( _Stop being an idiot. You’re an idiot. Shut up. You don’t even know him_.)

 

(BUT WHAT IF IT WAS TRUE?????)

 

Yeah. Steve never dwelled on it. Ever.

 

The sketch that he was absentmindedly working on turned into James’s face. When he realized this, he slammed the book shut, alarmed.

 

He’d had one-and-a-half conversations with the guy. This was just aesthetic attraction. From an artistic perspective. No one in the world could deny that James was beautiful, even the straightest dudebro out there. It was just a fact.

 

 

 

In English the next day, Steve fucking smiled at Bucky when he walked into the classroom.

 

And really? How was he supposed to deal with that?

 

Rationally, like the fucking adult he was (or would technically be tomorrow), Bucky made a squeaking noise and nodded jerkily a few times at Steve.

 

Steve gave him this adorable, smirking grin. Which. Was just. Why?

 

His life was such bullshit at this point.

 

On that note, Steve’s hair was looking particularly nice today.

 

He almost sighed dreamily, but remembered that Natasha was already laughing at him in the seat beside him. He needn’t give her any more ammo for the day.

 

Instead, he focused harder than he needed to on Mr. Coulson’s lecture.

 

At the end of class, Steve smiled at him again before they parted ways.

 

What a fabulous early birthday present.

 

In physics, Tony chattered easily with Bucky over the lab they were doing that day. Despite Pepper’s attempts, Bucky actually kind of liked Tony Stark.

 

He was easy to talk to and appreciated science even more than Bucky did.

 

“And then Thor got pissed at me for, like, whacking him on the arm, which is ridiculous. It didn’t even hurt him. Have you seen how muscular that fucker is? Anyway. You don’t care about Thor. You don’t even know him.” Tony studied him behind his lab goggles. “Who the fuck do you care about?” He snapped his fingers. “Right. Old mama Rogers. I hope you know how much of a boring grandpa he is. It’s embarrassing. Why I associate with him, I don’t know. Oh, wait. Never mind, I remember. In the eighth grade, he got beat up this one time, I mean there were a lot of times but this was specific and shit, and we ended up in detention together. And I adopted him.” He made a face. “Wait. No. He’s the elderly boring grandpa. He adopted me. But only because I was nice enough to choose him.”

 

Bucky frowned. “Thanks for the exposition, I guess?”

 

“You’re welcome, assface. You’re looking particularly emo today.”

 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

“You’re wearing eyeliner,” Tony said, as if that explained all the happenings of the universe.

 

Bucky shrugged. “I wear eyeliner a lot of the time,” he argued, indignant.

 

“It’s smudgy today. You look like a Russian assassin.”

 

Bucky glanced at his vague reflection in the glass cabinets that held equipment. “Fuck. I look like a raccoon.”

 

Tony evaluated him again. “You pull it off. Like a hot spy raccoon. A walking trashcan full of premium garbage.”

 

“Thanks. You look like expensive cologne took a shit on a playboy magazine.”

 

Tony batted his eyelashes. “Barnes, I’ll have you know, you really flatter a guy.”

 

Bucky grinned, leaning towards him to commit to the joke. “Just doin’ what I know, sugar,” he drawled, the Brooklyn in his voice so apparent it was almost funny.

 

Tony blinked for a moment, then broke into a bright smile. “Damn. That was so smooth, I almost crapped myself. Keep using the ‘sugar’ around Steve and you’ll have him wrapped around your finger. Or use it around me and I can be a damn fine substitute.”

 

Bucky laughed, even though Tony’s ribbing about Steve was kind of humiliating. “I’ll keep that in mind, dollface.”

 

Tony flushed. “Damn.”

 

They high fived over their project, the joking flirtation falling away as they turned to focus again.

 

During lunch, Pepper complained about how Bucky and Tony had been friendly today. As usual, Natasha and Bucky exchanged eye rolls that they didn’t bother to hide.

 

Halfway through, Thor walked up to their table. “Natasha!” he said loudly, making Bucky jump half a foot off his seat. “I am here to inform you that the plan is going smoothly!”

 

Natasha grinned. “Thanks, champ.”

 

Thor gave her a thumbs-up and wandered off.

 

“What was that about? Since when were you two friends?”

 

Natasha was dismissive. “Steve gave me his number.”

 

“So you and Steve are friends now?” Pepper questioned.

 

Natasha made her face go blank. “We’re in love. Don’t tell Clint,” she said with absolute seriousness.

 

Despite knowing Natasha, Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

 

Instantly, Natasha’s demeanor shifted into mad cackles. “Of fucking course, James. We’ve only been talking to Rogers for like a day.”

 

Pepper wrinkled her nose. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

 

Bucky waved a hand at her perceptive eyes. “Nah. Nat and I just have classes with him and you don’t.”

 

Pepper sighed, rubbing her temples as she glumly complained, “You get to hang out with Mr. Moral Compass over there and I have to deal with _Tony Fucking Stark_? How is this fair?”

 

“I like Tony,” Bucky said.

 

“I don’t,” Natasha said. “He keeps calling me Natalie.”

 

Pepper gestured wildly at her, staring widely at Bucky. “SEE?!”

 

Bucky smiled, shaking his head.

 

He was disappointed when Steve didn’t acknowledge him in history, but he figured he’d gotten much more than he’d hoped for already.

 

 

 

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Bucky’s mother said sweetly.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled into his cereal.

 

His father didn’t look up from his newspaper. “You’re a man now. Gotta start acting like one.”

 

Bucky’s shoulders tensed, sensing what was about to come. “’Kay.”

 

“No more of this faggot bullshit, you hear me?”

 

He took a deep breath. “’Kay.”

 

“James, honey, be respectful when your father is talking to you.”

 

Bucky didn’t reply. Just closed his eyes.

 

“James,” his father snapped.

 

“Yes?”

 

George Barnes finally looked up from his newspaper to level him with a cold stare. “Don’t forget that you live under _my_ house.”

 

Bucky stood up. “Yeah.”

 

“And where do you think you’re going?”

 

“School,” Bucky said sarcastically, “You know, to get my education.”

 

“Oh, now, dear,” Winifred Barnes tisked. “You’re grounded.” Her voice remained cheerful even as she said it.

 

Bucky left the house without replying.

 

 

 

Natasha and Pepper sensed something was wrong as soon as hey saw him in the hallway before class.

 

“Happy birthday, James!”

 

Bucky forced a smile. “Thanks.”

 

Pepper touched his arm. “You okay?”

 

Bucky pressed his fingers into his eyes. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

 

He suspected that the only reason that Natasha didn’t obnoxiously announce that it was his birthday during English was because of his surly mood.

 

He was stressed enough that he hardly paid Steve any attention throughout the class.

 

The school day passed much the same, even though Natasha and Pepper repeatedly attempted to cheer him up, a storm cloud remained over Bucky’s head.

 

It wasn’t the first time his dad had called him a faggot, but each time it happened, it fucking hurt.

 

At the end of the day, Natasha asked, “Want to go out for ice cream?”

 

“Can’t,” Bucky muttered, “I’m grounded.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He adjusted the straps of his backpack before making his way to his car. “James,” Natasha said, and something in her tone made Bucky stop. “You can talk to me.”

 

Bucky said nothing, shoulders hunched, head bowed. “I’ll see you on Monday, Nat.”

 

He drove home without a backwards glance.

 

 

 

He stole a bottle of cheap vodka from the basement that night and drank the whole thing.

 

It was the first time he’d tasted alcohol.

 

He passed out at 9:30.

 

 

 

Bucky woke up the next morning. His head hurt so bad that he started crying, and that made everything worse.

 

He stumbled into the bathroom and threw up until he was dry retching.

 

His mouth tasted like actual death.

 

He couldn’t open his eyes without feeling sick and dizzy.

 

Everything sucked.

 

Blearily, he groped for his phone and found it on the floor by the window. He found he had eighteen text messages, sixteen of which were from a worried Natasha-and-Pepper.

 

He ignored those and clicked on the other two, both from Steve Rogers.

 

Steve: I was just informed that it was your birthday yesterday.

 

Steve: Happy birthday :)

 

Bucky pressed a fist into his mouth to muffle the choked off sob that wracked his body. Everything hurt and his life was a joke and his parents didn’t love him and Steve Rogers was texting him smiley faces.

 

James: tnhaks

 

James: *thanks

 

Jesus, that sounded dull and impersonal (well you _are_ dull and impersonal, _shut up_ ).

 

James: :)

 

That’d do. Emoticons conveyed personality and friendly spirit.

 

Bucky was surprised when his phone buzzed again a minute later.

 

Steve: Was it a fun birthday?

 

James: Yeah.

 

Bucky hesitated, guilt pulling at his gut.

 

James: Sorry. That was a lie.

 

Steve: ?

 

James: Never mind. Sorry. Forget I said that.

 

Steve: What happened.

 

James: Don’t want to talk about it.

 

Steve: You obviously do.

 

James: The fuck makes you so sure?

 

Steve: You brought it up. You want attention, jerk.

 

A flash of anger stabbed through Bucky.

 

James: You don’t even know me, you fucking punk.

 

The reply came ten minutes later.

 

Steve: Sorry.

 

Bucky sighed, pressing his face against the cold tiles of his bathroom floor, where he had migrated while he waited for Steve to text back.

 

James: Don’t be. I was out of line.

 

Steve: I know I don’t know you or anything, but you can talk to me if you need to.

 

James: I’ll keep that in mind.

 

James: Punk :P

 

Steve didn’t respond to that, as the conversation had come naturally to a close. Bucky then focused on the texts from Natasha and Pepper, reassuring them that he was okay, even though that was false.

 

After a day of procrastination on his homework, Bucky lay curled on his bed, hangover mostly gone. Without thinking too much about it, he clicked on Steve’s name in his phone contacts.

 

Steve picked up on the third ring.

 

“James?”

 

Bucky let out a breath. “Hey.”

 

“What’s up?”

 

“You know, you have such a nice voice,” Bucky blurted out without thinking.

 

Steve was silent as Bucky cursed himself, trying to scramble for a reply, but by the time he thought of one, it would be after such a weirdly long pause, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

“You’re a charmer,” Steve finally deadpanned.

 

Bucky laughed, half-relieved, half-amused. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole earlier.”

 

“Don’t be. I wasn’t exactly respecting your boundaries.”

 

“I reacted poorly, though.”

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

Bucky laughed again at Steve’s blunt honesty.

 

They were quiet for a long time, except it wasn’t awkward or tense anymore.

 

“I did something stupid last night,” Bucky eventually whispered, his voice not much more than a breath.

 

Steve didn’t reply.

 

“You ever been drunk, Steve?”

 

“Yeah,” he said almost immediately.

 

“I haven’t. Or, at least not until yesterday.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Stole a bottle of vodka from my parents,” Bucky whispered.

 

Steve sighed. “Look, James. I know that probably feels like the worst thing you’ve ever done, but trust me when I say that I’ve done worst.”

 

Bucky closed his eyes. “Tell me.”

 

“Sophomore year was a shitty time. I went to a lot of parties. Drank regularly. Did some stuff.”

 

“Stuff?”

 

“Not drugs,” Steve said hurriedly. “I have asthma, can’t do that. I just... got into even more fights than I do now.”

 

“Why?” Bucky pressed.

 

“My ma died that summer.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I’m better now, though. Dr. Erskine took me in. I met Peggy. Stopped going to as many parties and definitely stopped drinking regularly.”

 

Bucky smiled, albeit sadly. “Do you miss her? Peggy?”

 

Steve made a distressed noise. “Yeah. All the time.”

 

“I looked at her Facebook page,” Bucky admitted. “She seems perfect for you.”

 

“She was,” Steve agreed.

 

There was a pause, but Bucky could tell Steve wanted to say something. “What?” he prompted.

 

“Did you ever date Brock Rumlow?” he whispered.

 

Bucky’s breath hitched. “How the fuck did you find out?”

 

Steve sounded guilty. “Loki is really good at finding things.”

 

Bucky pursed his lips. “You had someone spy on me, Rogers?”

 

“No!”

 

“You could’ve asked.”

 

“Would you have answered?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Steve chuckled. “Why does Brock hate you so much now?”

 

“I wouldn’t suck his dick,” Bucky said honestly.

 

“Jesus...” Steve muttered.

 

“What else did Loki tell you about me?” Bucky pushed.

 

A beat of hesitation. “You want to know everything?” Bucky made a vaguely affirmative noise. “So, uh, number one thing is that you’re gay. And that you kind of... sleep around.” Bucky giggled at the wrongness of that statement. “Um, you also apparently have been arrested, and have killed a man but didn’t get caught, and that you’re related to Stalin... That’s all I really remember.”

 

Bucky smiled. “Well, they’re all wrong. Except the uh- the-“

 

Sensing his struggle, Steve finished, “The gay thing?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Steve was quiet. Bucky shifted nervously. “Are you going anywhere over spring break?” Steve asked.

 

The question was so abrupt that Bucky could only say, “Uh?”

 

“I’m hanging around here. So, like, if you are too, we could hang out sometime.”

 

“I-I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky stammered.

 

“We should go see a movie. You know. To plan the Pepper-Tony thing.” Bucky could hear a smile in his voice.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed faintly.

 

“Do you want me to hang up?” Steve asked.

 

Bucky considered. “Do you think you could just tell me a story? Then you can go. Promise.”

 

“Sure thing, James,” Steve said, voice a little bit softer than usual.

 

Steve started talking about how he and Tony became friends in much more detail than Tony had supplied. He didn’t hang up after that story was done, though. He just launched into another one, and Bucky fell asleep to the sound of his voice in his ear, feeling more relaxed than he had in ages.

 

 

 

“Who are you texting?”

 

“Steve.”

 

“Who’s Steve?”

 

Bucky looked up at his mother. “New friend.”

 

She gave him a look. “ _Just_ a friend, right?”

 

Bucky clenched his jaw tightly. “Yes, mother.”

 

 

 

Bucky, Steve, Natasha, Loki, and Thor were all meeting in a pancake diner to discuss Operation Pony because they were classy members of society and shit.

 

(Natasha came up with the name for the operation. Nobody had the balls to argue with her.)

 

They were working out the final bugs in the plan, and Steve was sitting next to him, and their elbows occasionally touched, and Bucky wasn’t really thinking properly.

 

Natasha looked at Thor at a lull in the conversation and asked, “How is Operation Barnes and Noble working for you?”

 

Thor grinned. “Very well, but for one complication.”

 

“The fuck is Operation Barnes and Noble?” Bucky asked.

 

Steve looked equally curious.

 

“It involves books. Nothing you two would understand,” Natasha said dismissively.

 

Bucky and Steve were both Very Offended.

 

“What’s the complication?” Natasha looked at Thor evenly.

 

“A lack of action.”

 

Loki interjected, “I want to call it Operation Sta-“

 

“We know,” Natasha snapped. “I veto. Barnes and Noble is cooler.”

 

Bucky shrugged at Steve’s confused glance, returning to his pancakes.

 

“So, Operation Pony is set. We’ll meet later to finalize Operation Barnes and Noble.”

 

Thor nodded seriously.

 

Steve sighed in resignation, resting his chin on the table, which gave Bucky a really great angle to look at his eyelashes.

 

He tilted his head to look up at Bucky, who pretended he hadn’t been watching him. “Let’s go see a movie after this,” he whispered.

 

Bucky’s stomach exploded into gleeful butterflies. “Any one in mind, punk?”

 

Steve grinned. “Not really. I just feel like it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Bucky didn’t remember anything about the movie because Steve had laughed during it, and who could fucking concentrate with that in their life?

 

Steve was raving animatedly about the cinematography while Bucky drove him home, and Bucky could have listened to him all fucking day.

 

Sadly, Steve left with a backwards look. “Good luck with Pepper.”

 

“Good luck with Tony.”

 

He lingered for a second, then seemed to remember himself and hurried to his small house.

 

By comparison, Bucky’s house probably looked like a damn mansion.

 

Which Bucky resented.

 

Mostly because his house was home to a family of four and usually only held three since Rebecca was at boarding school during most of the year.

 

Bucky wished Rebecca were there. At least she loved him.

 

When he got home, his parents were still at work. Bucky turned to Netflix, grateful for the immense amount of free time that was spring break.

 

After binging a season of _Merlin_ (what a great fucking show), Bucky went to sleep, ready for tomorrow.

 

 

 

Natasha invited Bucky and Pepper over to her house.

 

They chatted and played Mario-Kart for a while. To no one’s surprise at all, Natasha won most of the races.

 

When Pepper excused herself to the bathroom, Natasha winked at Bucky and cocked her head, listening intently.

 

After a few minutes, she began to talk. “So, did you hear about Tony?”

 

“What about him?”

 

“The evidence is there. He’s got a massive crush on Pepper.”

 

Bucky paused. “What kind of evidence?”

 

“Love letters,” Natasha said.

 

They heard Pepper cover a gasp from the hallway, but ignored it, grinning. “What’d they say?”

 

“Oh, the usual. ‘Your hair gleams like the sunset. Your wit is the only thing that keeps me going.’ You know.”

 

Bucky sighed. “That’s too bad for good ole Stark.”

 

“Why?” Natasha asked.

 

“He’s only going to get his heart broken. Pepper despises him. She’d reject him if he were the last man on Earth.”

 

“You sure about that, James?”

 

“One-hundred percent.”

 

“Poor Tony.”

 

“I know. He doesn’t deserve it,” Bucky agreed.

 

“Should we tell Pepper?”

 

“Jesus, no. She’d fucking break his heart even more brutally than if she didn’t know.”

 

Natasha smiled. “You’re right. We won’t ever tell her.”

 

“It’s too bad. She and Tony would make such a great couple.”

 

“If she didn’t hate him so.”

 

They dissolved into theatrically contemplative silence and Pepper hesitantly walked into the room.

 

Bucky smoothed his face into one of concern. “You okay, Pep? You look sick.”

 

“Uh, I’m fine. Let’s watch a movie,” she mumbled shakily.

 

“Okay,” Natasha said.

 

Now, all they could do was wait.

 

 

 

James: How’d it go with Tony?

 

Steve: He’s conflicted and totally besotted. You?

 

James: Pepper is totally going to reasonably consider him.

 

Steve: Success?

 

James: Success.

 

 

 

Group Message with Thor, Loki, & Natasha

 

Loki: Operation Stames is going well?

 

Natasha: *Barnes and Noble

 

Loki: :(

 

Thor: YES I BELIEVE IT IS.

 

Loki: Well...

 

Natasha: What?

 

Loki: You’re not going to like it, but I think there may be something thwarting our plans...

 

 

 

By the time they came back from spring break, promposals were pretty much daily occurrences.

 

Tony Stark’s promposal was easily the most memorable one, though.

 

He got a helicopter to land on the football field during marching band practice, where Pepper played the clarinet.

 

Tony emerged from the helicopter in a literal explosion of sparkles.

 

While wearing a gold tuxedo and red bowtie.

 

And got fireworks to blow up in the sky overhead that read:

 

Pepper + Tony = Prom?

 

Pepper stormed over to him in a huff of irritation, complained loudly about his arrogance, and then made out with him in front of the entire marching band and several bystanders (including the group who had orchestrated Operation Pony).

 

They all whooped and high fived, screaming, “FINALLY!”

 

Steve gave Bucky this amazing, blinding grin and knocked their shoulders together.

 

Bucky was going to die of happiness.

 

Tony got detention, to the surprise of literally no one.

 

“My promposal was better,” Clint argued.

 

Natasha patted him on the cheek. “’Course it was, honey.”

 

Clint smiled dopily for the rest of the day.

 

Bucky and Steve were walking to the parking lot side-by-side when Bucky said, “So, you got any plans for prom?”

 

He winced, realizing he’d walked himself into a trap.

 

Steve gave Bucky a look that he couldn’t decipher before quietly saying, “Maria Hill and I are going together.”

 

“Nice,” Bucky forced himself to say, though his throat was dry.

 

“You?” Steve asked politely.

 

Bucky just shook his head, not trusting his voice at the moment.

 

“I’m sure you could get a date,” Steve said.

 

“No one wants to date a fucking faggot,” Bucky snapped, then immediately shut his mouth with a click.

 

“James, that’s not true-“

 

“Fuck you, Rogers,” he said tiredly. “You don’t _know_.”

 

Steve was silent as they reached Bucky’s car. “Don’t call yourself a faggot, James.”

 

“Why not? Everybody else does!”

 

Steve’s jaw tensed. “You’re being an asshole.”

 

Bucky’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, just... don’t take everything out on yourself.”

 

Bucky shook his head to himself and got into his car, giving Steve a sullen wave as he drove away.

 

 

 

“Steve is going to prom with Maria Hill,” Bucky said quietly into his phone.

 

Natasha sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah. Me too.”

 

 

 

Steve: You’re upset because of something

 

James: No.

 

Steve: James, come on. I /know/ you.

 

James: I was just in a bad mood.

 

James: I’m sorry.

 

James: Steve? Please respond. I’m fucking sorry.

 

James: Fine. I get it. Whatever.

 

 

 

“I GOT INTO MIT!” Bucky shrieked at his friends.

 

“CONGRATU-FUCKING-LATIONS!” Natasha yelled. Pepper just screeched and jumped up and down a few times.

 

Bucky grinned hugely. “I’m going to be an engineer and shit.”

 

Natasha and Pepper both threw their arms around him, and Bucky sighed, relaxing.

 

Then he whispered, “I won’t have to live near my parents.”

 

“Oh, James...” They just hugged him tighter.

 

“Hey, what’s with all the touching?” Bucky heard Tony say behind him.

 

He turned around, grinning toothily. “I got into MIT.”

 

Tony beamed. “Same! Dude, we’re going to be college-bros!”

 

They high fived, the slap echoing down the hallway.

 

“I’ll be close to you guys. I’m going to Harvard,” Pepper announced smugly.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. Pepper had been so shitty about bragging ever since she’d gotten in to that fucking school.

 

“Are the rest of our friends going to school in the New York area?” Bucky asked.

 

“Yup,” Natasha said, popping the word obnoxiously.

 

“Nice.”

 

Tony pulled out his phone. “What are you doing?” Pepper asked.

 

“Texting Steve.”

 

“Why?”

 

Tony paused, still staring at his phone with a smirk. “I’m telling him that James is going to school with me. I hope he gets jealous. Jealous Steve is almost as great as drunk Steve.”

 

Pepper frowned. “What’s there to be jealous of?”

 

Tony looked up innocently. “Oh. Didn’t James tell you? We sort of have a thing going on the side.”

 

Bucky took the cue and leered at Tony. “That’s right, sugar.”

 

Tony grinned at Pepper. “Look at how fucking smooth he is.”

 

Pepper glared at Tony and said nothing.

 

Natasha was tapping on her phone too. “Aw. Steve is going all conceal-don’t-feel.”

 

“Are you guys all texting Steve?” Bucky asked, annoyed.

 

“I’m not,” Pepper said.

 

“Tell him that James says that he’s going to kick Steve’s ass if he keeps ignoring him.”

 

“Stop talking in the third person and you have a deal,” Tony agreed.

 

“Okay.”

 

Bucky’s phone buzzed.

 

Steve: Fuck off.

 

 

 

Natasha eyed him speculatively. “Steve is upset with you,” she finally said.

 

“I don’t know what I did,” he groaned, dropping his head back in exasperation.

 

Natasha glanced back down at her phone, shrugging. “Figure it out. You’re boring and angsty when you’re not talking to Steve.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky muttered dryly.

 

“Go. Run to him!” Tony cried theatrically.

 

 

 

James: I know you’re mad at me. I don’t know why.

 

Steve stared at his phone from where he was curled up on his bed. He didn’t particularly want to reply, but Natasha kept threatening him, so he sighed and snatched the device.

 

Steve: I’m not.

 

James: Prom is this weekend.

 

Steve: Are you going?

 

James: Idk.

 

Steve threw his phone down in irritation and didn’t pick it back up.

 

 

 

Since Bucky was a masochist with really fucking manipulative friends, he found himself scowling as he was dragged to prom in the same car as Natasha and Clint.

 

And they were being disgustingly cute while Bucky bristled next to them.

 

“Purple really is your best color.”

 

“And red really is yours.”

 

Natasha actually fucking blushed, pecking a kiss on his lips. Clint grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together.

 

“You’re blinding me with your cuteness,” Bucky grumbled.

 

Natasha flipped him off without taking her eyes off Clint.

 

They arrived at the stupid fucking dance, and Bucky lost his friends almost as soon as he stepped through the door.

 

Tense, he found a seat at a blessedly empty table and sat down in a grumpy heap, glaring at anyone who seemed to be having fun.

 

His eyes found Steve and Maria, who were laughing at something as Steve tripped over her feet on the dance floor. Maria was really pretty in a navy blue dress, her hair all dolled up.

 

Bucky sighed and settled himself for a miserable night.

 

Tony and Pepper briefly came by to say hello, looking beautiful and in love as they exchanged their weirdly hostile banter between sappy looks.

 

Everyone was just being really adorable and it wasn’t fair.

 

Fucking Steve Rogers.

 

Said motherfucker seemed to notice that he was there about halfway through. His eyes briefly widened, snagging on Bucky’s shoulders before Maria said something and he yanked his eyes back to her.

 

Bucky felt a little bit smug at that.

 

Of course, that was before everything went to shit.

 

Brock Rumlow strode up to him, all swagger and rugged hotness, suit looking like it was painted on.

 

He looked drunk.

 

He dropped into the seat next to Bucky and purred, “Hey, babe. I know you fucking missed me.”

 

Bucky glared at him.

 

“And since I’m a fucking saint, I’m going to give you one last chance to stop being such a fucking pussy.”

 

“Brock,” Bucky said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. “You’re drunk.”

 

He ignored him. “C’mon, Jimmy. What d’you say? For old time’s sake?” He jerked his head in the direction of the bathrooms.

 

Bucky closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, not counting on his voice anymore.

 

Brock grabbed his chin roughly. “You fucking cocksucker. What is it? You get to be picky about whose dick you suck? I thought you got off on that shit, faggot. Don’t be such a prude.”

 

Bucky jerked back. “Stop,” he begged hoarsely.

 

“You gonna beg for me, Barnes?” Brock growled.

 

Bucky stood up and made a beeline for the exit. He couldn’t handle this right now.

 

“That’s more like it.”

 

Brock was definitely following him, but at least this way, he could fight him without anyone seeing. Bucky finally burst out of the dance, into the parking lot.

 

Brock advanced on him, lips curled, stance predatory. “You wanna wrestle a little, huh? That what this is all about?”

 

Bucky took a steadying breath, balling his hands into tight fists. “You have one more chance to go back inside.”

 

Of course, he didn’t. He stepped closer, backing Bucky against the wall. He raised a hand to fist in Bucky’s hair, yanking him upwards. Bucky cried out, hauling forward to punch him in the jaw.

 

Brock’s motor functions were impaired, so he didn’t block the hit, letting go of Bucky’s hair at the blow.

 

“Fucking bitch!”

 

Bucky punched him again, this time in the nose, and Brock grabbed Bucky’s head to slam it back against the wall. Bucky blinked away stars as pain rocketed through his body.

 

Brock kneed Bucky in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs, and it felt like fire. As he collapsed towards Brock’s chest, the stronger man shoved him down, onto his knees.

 

“Fuck you,” Bucky gasped out before leaning back and snapping forward, forehead slamming into Brock’s abdomen.

 

Brock coughed, faltering for a moment.

 

That was when a deep, beautiful voice barked out, “Hey!”

 

Brock whipped around. “Nothing to see here, pal.”

 

“Pick on someone your own size,” the voice said levelly.

 

Bucky closed his eyes, sagging against the wall. “He _likes_ it, the fucking cocksucker.”

 

“I’m warning you. Go away now.”

 

“You gonna make me?”

 

“Yeah, I am.”

 

Bucky opened his eyes and was able to witness the stunning sight of Steve ducking under a sloppy punch before aiming a kick to Brock’s groin.

 

Brock collapsed in a squeaking breath, obviously in pain.

 

Steve hurried over to Bucky’s side, breathing, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

 

“Peachy keen,” Bucky gritted out.

 

“Shit,” Steve muttered. “We have to get out of here right now.”

 

“Yeah. Just. Hold on a sec.” Bucky lurched to his feet and staggered over to Brock, looking him over. “I’ve wanted to do this for over a year,” Bucky growled and slammed his foot into that asshole’s crotch.

 

Brock gasped and curled into the fetal position.

 

“Come on,” Steve urged, tugging on his arm insistently.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Steve practically dragged Bucky across the parking lot, shoving him onto the bumper of a car.

 

“Stay here,” he ordered.

 

Bucky complied, and Steve returned a moment later with a first aid kit. He started working on Bucky’s injuries.

 

“What happened, James?” he asked tiredly.

 

“Brock wanted me to do it with him in the bathroom, so I left. He followed.”

 

Steve sighed, shaking his head furiously. “That fucker.”

 

“I know.”

 

Bucky watched Steve’s face as he worked, fascinated by the adorable wrinkle of concentration on his forehead as his bangs flopped into his face and his glasses slid down his nose.

 

His face was so close that Bucky was beginning to think he was getting heart palpitations.

 

“I don’t usually get into fights,” Bucky whispered. He didn’t know why he was whispering.

 

“I do,” Steve snapped back, apparently angry.

 

“You still mad at me?” Bucky asked, resigned.

 

Steve scowled. “Less at you, more at Brock.”

 

Bucky sighed. “I’m sorry for whatever I did that upset you.”

 

Steve dropped his first aid equipment, evidently done with it. “James, you’ve got to stop hating yourself for who you are.” He removed his glasses and placed them next to Bucky.

 

Bucky shook his head brokenly. “I don’t know how to do that, Stevie.”

 

Steve’s eyes roamed over his face. “God, you’ve got so much emotional baggage,” he murmured before reaching out and framing Bucky’s face with his stupid artist hands.

 

“Steve?” Bucky squawked in shock.

 

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed, eyes so fucking soft and hands so fucking gentle.

 

Bucky managed a tiny, wide-eyed nod before Steve leaned in, tilting Bucky’s head downwards.

 

Their lips made contact, barely a brush of contact, and Bucky made a stupid, desperate noise in the back of his throat. He moved his arms to wrap around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer against him.

 

Steve huffed a little bit in amusement, and Bucky felt the puff of warm breath before he tilted his head to the side, seeking a good angle, and kissed Steve more firmly.

 

Steve moved a hand from his face to run through his hair, sighing as his lips parted, and the kiss deepened.

 

Bucky tentatively licked into Steve’s mouth, tasting the punch from the party. They continued like this, slowly exploring. Steve experimentally bit down on Bucky’s lower lip, and a jolt went through him strong enough that he groaned and shifted closer.

 

“I swear, you were straight five minutes ago. And with Maria,” Bucky murmured, eyes still closed. They resumed the gentle kiss before Steve replied.

 

“I’m fucking bisexual, jerk. And Maria and I came here as _friends_.”

 

Bucky grinned against him, feeling like he was melting. “Punk.”

 

They stayed wrapped around each other until Bucky’s phone buzzed insistently.

 

He broke away from a pouting Steve to answer the call.

 

“Yeah?” he said, sounded completely frazzled as Steve smirked and started kissing along his neck.

 

“James, where the fuck are you?” Natasha barked.

 

“Um,” Bucky said, gasping as Steve bit down on his collarbone and sucked at the skin. “Um. Outside.”

 

“Why?” she demanded.

 

“Everything is fine. Please go back to partying.”

 

Steve took a break from his ruthless assault on Bucky’s neck to say into the phone. “I’ve got him, Nat.”

 

There was a lengthy, incredibly satisfying pause of shock before Natasha screeched, “ARE YOU TWO FUCKING IN THE PARKING LOT?!”

 

To avoid that conversation, Bucky immediately hung up and turned his attention back to Steve.

 

Steve arched an eyebrow. “Are we fucking in the parking lot, Mr. Barnes?”

 

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered, stealing another kiss. “And no. We are not.”

 

“Okay,” Steve agreed cheerfully, looking at Bucky adoringly.

 

“Stop being so beautiful,” Bucky whispered, hauling him back in.

 

Steve made a noise of approval.

 

A few moments later, the pair heard a very loud, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO? I HAVE TO SEE THIS FOR MYSELF. I NEED DOCUMENTATION.”

 

Steve turned a little bit, breaking away from the kiss as Tony wandered towards them. He was followed by pretty much everyone else in their friend group, including Clint.

 

Tony looked delighted. “I’m not even going to ask about the crying jock back there!” He pulled out his phone and snapped several pictures before anyone could react.

 

Steve hastily stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, scowling and looking almost debauched (his hair was sticking up in weird places and his lips were so fucking red, _god_ ). “I don’t think we invited you guys.”

 

Natasha was vibrating in either excitement or anger. “We had a bet. We had to verify,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

At that, Loki smugly held out a hand towards her. Natasha slapped a bill into it.

 

“What was the bet?” Bucky asked, blinking owlishly.

 

Steve put his glasses back on, giving Bucky a satisfied once-over.

 

Thor answered. “It was in regards to when you would finally get together, of course.”

 

Steve winced. “Were we that obvious?”

 

“Yup!” Tony said gleefully, tapping at his phone. “Operation Stames is a success!”

 

“Barnes and Noble,” Natasha said with a menacing glower.

 

Bucky’s eyes widened. “That’s what that was?”

 

“Yes!” Tony cackled.

 

Pepper elbowed him, but she was hiding a smile.

 

“Go away,” Bucky said.

 

“I think they deserve some privacy.” Clint nodded, smirking.

 

Natasha rolled her eyes, grabbing his arm. “Come on, guys.”

 

There was a bit of a commotion and a lot of gloating from Loki and Tony before they finally all turned to head back inside, leaving Bucky and Steve alone again.

 

Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s hair. “Hey.”

 

Steve smiled. “Hey.”

 

“Do you think Maria will care if I steal you for the evening?” Bucky asked, leaning forward so that his mouth brushed against Steve’s ear as he spoke.

 

Steve shivered. “Nah. She was dancing with someone else when I headed out to save your sorry ass.”

 

Bucky grinned. “Want to make out in Nat and Clint’s car?”

 

“ _God_ , yes.”

 

 

 

Bucky quietly slipped back home that night, trying not to look like he’d been kissing a boy for several hours (they hadn’t done anything else, which Bucky was absolutely fine with- he wasn’t ready yet).

 

His parents were either asleep or pretending to be, so Bucky snuck up to his room without incident.

 

After he showered, he texted Steve for an hour before dozing off, exhausted.

 

He hoped this hadn’t been some kind of skewed dream.

 

 

 

Monday rolled around, and Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

Steve didn’t exactly specify whether or not he’d wanted to be Bucky’s boyfriend, or anything.

 

What if he’d just wanted to kiss him for one night?

 

Bucky mentally kicked himself, thinking that night over and deciding that this theory was highly improbable.

 

Of course, when Steve saw him slump into English, his entire face lit up like the fucking sun. Bucky was unable to stop the smile that took over his own face in response.

 

“Miss me?” Steve teased.

 

“Nah,” Bucky joked, tapping him on the shoulder as he passed but turning and winking so that he’d know that Bucky definitely did miss him.

 

Also, it was amazing to watch the blush spread across Steve’s beautiful features.

 

After class, Steve snatched his wrist in the hallway. “Want to come over after school?”

 

Bucky froze, arching an eyebrow. “Does... does Dr. Erskine know you’re...?”

 

Steve looked amused. “Yes, my adoptive parent knows that I am bisexual.”

 

Bucky ducked his head, face coloring. “Right.” Not everybody had a conservative family that belonged in the 1930s. “But, yeah, that’d be awesome. I could probably hang out for like an hour?”

 

“Great,” Steve said, face shining.

 

Later that day, Bucky pulled into Steve’s driveway behind him, and braced himself for something to ruin everything.

 

But Dr. Erskine hardly even reacted when Steve introduced him. He just smiled and said, “Steven has told me much about you,” in an awesome German accent.

 

And suddenly Steve was making excuses and shoving Bucky into his living room.

 

Bucky sat down next to him on a couch, nervous. “So...”

 

Steve flexed his artistic fingers. “So,” he echoed.

 

“You didn’t-“ Bucky began, but cut himself off.

 

Steve jutted his chin out, a challenge in his beautiful eyes.

 

Bucky’s breath caught. He stared, a little shamelessly. “Um. You didn’t specify what you wanted this to be. Between us.”

 

Steve leveled him a look. “We spent two hours with our lips smashed together.”

 

“Yeah, but-“

 

He smiled. “I want to hear you say it.”

 

Somehow, Bucky knew exactly what he meant. “Would you want to be my boyfriend? Or something?”

 

Steve snorted, jabbing him in the ribs. “ _Yes_.” He smirked, adding, “Jerk.”

 

Bucky looked down at his lap, smiling dumbly. “Cool.”

 

Next to him, Steve gave a full body laugh. “Yay.”

 

“Can I kiss you? Again?” Bucky asked, cocking his head a little as he shifted on the couch.

 

“Dumbass,” Steve muttered, and fisted his hands in Bucky’s shirt to pull him in.

 

“Yay,” Bucky said weakly after they had broken apart.

 

“My boyfriend,” Steve whispered, eyes dancing.

 

“My boyfriend,” Bucky repeated stupidly, tapping the crooked bridge of Steve’s nose. “I love your stupid nose. And your stupid jawline.”

 

“I love your stupid hair. Too bad the rest of you is so ugly.”

 

Bucky pouted, batting his eyelashes as he leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Stevieeeee,” he whined.

 

“I like when you call me Stevie,” Steve confessed quietly, patting him on the cheek.

 

“Good. I like calling you Stevie.”

 

“Hey, James?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I feel happy.”

 

Bucky smiled, eyes closing. “Same.”

 

 

 

Clint liked to think of himself as a good person underneath all the rough edges.

 

That was a lie. Sorry. Clint saw himself as lower-than-low. He did some shit that looked pretty fucking bad. But he still had a vague outline of morals.

 

At least, he thought he did.

 

Loki stood before him, casually leaning a shoulder against the wall as he watched him. “I need a favor.”

 

Clint scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “What kind of favor?”

 

“I need you to break up Steve and James using your Photoshop skills.”

 

He did a double take. “Um. _No_.”

 

“I’ll pay you handsomely for your troubles,” Loki said coolly, casual.

 

“I’m not breaking them up. They’re like, happy, for the first time in a while. No way, man,” Clint decided, shaking his head.

 

Loki sighed, as if troubled. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

 

He rummaged around in his coat for a moment before locating his phone and thrusting it in Clint’s face.

 

“If you do not break them up, these pictures will be appearing everywhere.”

 

Clint stared down at the screen, a sort of numbness engulfing him, ringing in his ears. “Where did you get these?” he asked quietly.

 

Loki shrugged.

 

Clint squeezed his eyes shut, but the images stained his eyelids. This was the only thing worse than deliberately breaking up Steve and James. Loki was threatening to leak nude photographs of Natasha.

 

“This isn’t,” Clint croaked, “This isn’t fair.”

 

“Life isn’t fair,” Loki replied smoothly. “You have until the end of the summer. Preferably, orchestrate something that will ruin a few reputations. It’s more fun that way.”

 

“Why? I thought you were our friend.”

 

Loki’s eyes flashed. “It will destroy Thor,” he said simply.

 

Clint leaned heavily on the nearest wall. “Shit.”

 

“Like I said. Until the end of summer. Or those pictures will be trending on Twitter.”

 

Loki strode away in a swish of his coat, his exit as seamless as his entrance.

 

Clint sank to the floor. “Fuck. This is bad.”

 

 

 

“Can’t believe we’re finally out of that shitter,” Bucky said, nuzzling his nose into Steve’s hair.

 

Steve sighed breathily. “I probably shouldn’t have yelled at Schmidt the way I did.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Bucky laughed, “That was the highlight of my fucking year.”

 

Steve twisted around. “Should I be offended?”

 

“What? Am I forgetting something important?” Bucky teased, leaning down to peck Steve on the mouth.

 

“You’re such a jerk.”

 

“Punk.”

 

They settled for a more proper kiss, Bucky’s thumbs idly stroking at the fabric over Steve’s ribs.

 

“No PDA.”

 

Bucky grinned, looking up. “Fuck off, Tony.”

 

“You’re corrupting the Virgin Mary,” Tony complained.

 

Steve scoffed as Bucky said, “Well, actually, Steve’s more corrupted than I am.”

 

Tony blinked once, as if thrown. His jaw twitched. “Wow. Um. I didn’t. I didn’t need to know that. At all.” He whirled on Steve. “WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

 

Steve shrugged, blushing dark enough to rival a tomato. “Peggy didn’t want me to.”

 

They were all at Tony’s house for a small graduation party. Bucky and Steve had found a secluded spot, away from the others, for about five minutes of privacy.

 

Bucky pressed his lips to Steve’s temple as Tony continued to sputter like a fish.

 

“PEPPER!” Tony screeched. “I MAY NEED THAT THERAPY YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT!”

 

As they heard uproarious laughter from the other room, Tony sulked off, leaving the boys alone.

 

“You ever want to? You know, be corrupted?” Steve murmured, looking at Bucky like he was the center of the universe.

 

Bucky smiled a little. “Well, yeah. Eventually. But you’re not even legal yet.”

 

Steve sighed. “Details.”

 

Bucky gave a little chortle, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. “You really are something, Stevie.”

 

They were silent for a while, merely drinking in each other’s presence.

 

“We should go back,” Steve whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, hauling Steve to his feet after another moment. He pulled him directly into a kiss before stepping away, wrapping an arm around his shoulders instead.

 

They walked back into the room to see Pepper and Tony arguing loudly over chips and salsa, Clint with his face buried in Natasha’s hair, Thor laughing at something on his phone, and Loki glaring at the TV in morose silence.

 

Steve frowned at Natasha, who was idly stroking Clint’s back. “Is he okay?”

 

Natasha made a noncommittal face. “I think he’s had a rough week.” But she sounded slightly unsure of herself, something that was almost as rare as a blue moon.

 

Clint peaked up at them, his eyes a little bloodshot. “You talkin’ about me, Tasha?”

 

Natasha looked at him, a gentle, intimate shine to her eyes. “Turn your damn hearing aids on if you want to hear.”

 

Clint made a vague noise, eyes flicking over to Steve and Bucky, before returning to his previous position.

 

Natasha looked at them helplessly, mouthing, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

Bucky shrugged. “Give him time. He always gets back up.”

 

Natasha nodded, more to herself than to anybody else.

 

As the light vanished from the sky, and easy conversation tapered into something quieter, Bucky glanced at Steve Rogers, curled into his side like it was the easiest thing in the world. He laughed at something Thor said, eyes crinkling under those glasses, and Bucky knew that he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

 

Steve glanced up, catching Bucky’s stare, and asked, “What?” softly enough so that only he could hear.

 

Bucky grinned toothily. “Nothing. You’re beautiful.”

 

“Sap.”

 

“I’ve been called worse and less accurate things.”

 

Steve’s gaze was like a line of fire down Bucky’s spine. “I’m so glad you exist, you jerk.”

 

“ _Now_ whose the sap?”

 

When Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck, they both ignored the complaints about PDA.

 

 

 

Steve and Bucky lay side-by-side on a futon on the deserted roof of Steve’s house.

 

Their hands were laced together as fireworks colored the sky, casting glorious shadows over Steve’s sharp features.

 

Bucky turned on his side, kissing the back of Steve’s hand. “They’re for you.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Like I’ve never been told that one before...”

 

“It’s true,” Bucky insisted, nipping at the skin of Steve’s knuckles.

 

Steve reached up, hand on the nape of Bucky’s neck to pull him down for a proper kiss.

 

“Is Dr. Erskine at the hospital?”

 

Steve smiled against him. “Yeah. He’s on the night shift.”

 

Bucky tugged a little on the hem of Steve’s shirt, a question in his movements. “Can I...?”

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” was all Steve could say.

 

With Steve’s shirt removed, Bucky suddenly had a whole expanse of skin to explore. “Wow,” he whispered reverently, pecking a kiss to each visible rib as Steve’s breath hitched.

 

“Your turn, James.”

 

Bucky leaned back, yanking off his own shirt before practically diving back down, hungrily seeking Steve’s mouth.

 

Steve’s hands splayed on Bucky’s back, feeling the muscles by his shoulder blades, groaning into the heated kiss.

 

“Do you...” Bucky gasped out after an indeterminate amount of time. “Do you want to...?”

 

Steve’s eyes flew open. “Are you sure?” he demanded.

 

Bucky smiled, suddenly shy. “Stevie. I’m in love with you. Yes, I’m fucking sure.”

 

For one heart stopping, terrifying moment, Steve went absolutely still, blankly searching Bucky’s face.

 

“Fuck,” he finally breathed, grabbing Bucky’s face so that he could kiss every inch of it. “ _Fuck_.”

 

Uneasily, Bucky murmured, “Sorry.”

 

“No- fuck, no. James. Shit. I love you too.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky breathed, tension draining from his shoulders. “Really?”

 

Steve sighed. “Stop with the low self image thing for just one minute and _believe me_.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Steve’s hand went to Bucky’s belt. “You’re absolutely sure about this?” he asked.

 

Bucky’s brain was sort of a muddled mess at this point. “Yes,” he managed. That was before Steve’s deft fingers started working on his jeans and all thoughts shorted completely out of existence with white-hot lightning.

 

Later, they lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs, staring at each other as the fireworks continued overhead.

 

“Happy birthday, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s smiling lips.

 

 

 

There was a knock at the door.

 

“I got it!” Steve called as he jumped up and reached the door with a flourish.

 

He opened it to reveal Clint Barton.

 

He was staring at his feet, wringing his hands aggressively as his Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked like a wreck.

 

“Oh my god, Clint, what the fuck happened?”

 

“Um,” he began, voice shaking.

 

Steve opened the door wider. “Come inside. I’ll get you some water.”

 

“No,” Clint said immediately. “I think I better stay out here.”

 

Steve shrugged to himself, stepping out to the porch and shutting the door so that he wouldn’t let in too many bugs. “What’s going on?”

 

Clint took a deep breath, finally looking up. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Clint, you’re scaring the fuck out of me.”

 

Slowly, he pulled out his phone from his pocket. “I didn’t know,” he whispered, face set grimly. “I just found out last night. God, I’m so sorry, Steve. You don’t deserve this.”

 

“What?” Steve demanded, shifting his weight.

 

“James has been lying to you. To all of us.”

 

Steve shook his head, bewildered. “Clint, that’s impossible. James hasn’t lied to me yet.”

 

Clint just looked down at his phone, clutched tightly in his hand. “He’s cheating on you.”

 

Everything was still and silent in the sunny morning.

 

“You’re out of your mind.”

 

Clint held up his hands desperately. “I swear I wouldn’t do this unless I was absolutely sure. You deserve to know, Steve. You’re such a good guy.”

 

“I- I don’t believe you. James has given me no reason to be suspicious,” Steve stuttered, eyes wide.

 

Wordlessly, Clint offered him his phone. “I’m sorry.”

 

Steve was stiff and frozen in place for a moment before his hand reached for the phone. He stared uncomprehendingly at the picture on the screen.

 

James was unmistakably on the screen, on in a horrifically compromising position before a blurry figure who was definitely not Steve.

 

His hand started to tremble.

 

“That’s not-“ he choked out miserably, starting to crumble. “He _couldn’t_.”

 

Clint said nothing.

 

“James was pure as fucking snow before we-“ He cut himself off.

 

“This doesn’t have to be what it looks like.”

 

“He wouldn’t.”

 

“He said he loved me, Clint.”

 

Clint reached for his phone. “I’m so fucking sorry, Steve,” he whispered brokenly.

 

Steve yanked the phone out of Clint’s reach. “You can have this back after,” he snarled.

 

Clint looked startled. “Huh?”

 

“Son of a bitch lied to me,” Steve snapped. “You think I’m confronting that fucking cheating asshole without proof?”

 

“Uh.”

 

“I’ll get this back to you this afternoon,” Steve growled. “I’ve gotta face him.”

 

 

 

“JAMES, SOMEONE’S AT THE DOOR FOR YOU!” Bucky heard his mother shout from downstairs.

 

Groaning, Bucky heaved himself out of bed and padded sleepily downstairs, over to the foyer.

 

When he saw who was there, he stopped in his tracks, unable to smother the reflexive smile. “Oh. Hey, Stevie. Wasn’t expecting you.”

 

Bucky took a step closer, but faltered when he saw something wrong. Steve was practically vibrating in anger. Upon closer inspection, he was actually shaking from head to foot.

 

Bucky’s mother watched from the side as he hurried over to stand by Steve. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern coating his words.

 

Steve shook his head. Something was gripped so tightly in his lovely fingers that his knuckles had gone white. “Stevie?”

 

“How long?” Steve asked, voice cold.

 

“What?”

 

“How long,” Steve ground out, “have you been fucking someone else?”

 

Bucky floundered for a solid minute, shooting his mother a wild look, but her face had gone absolutely blank.

 

“What?” he squeaked at last.

 

“You’re cheating on me,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

 

Bucky’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck would give you _that_ idea?”

 

“Oh please,” Steve scoffed. He shoved the object in his hands- a phone- into Bucky’s face.

 

The blood drained from Bucky’s entire body. “That isn’t me,” he whispered, horrified.

 

Steve laughed humorlessly. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore, James. I _know_. You’re such a fucking shithead,” he spat.

 

“I’m- this is impossible. I didn’t do this. Stevie, you have to believe me.”

 

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

 

Bucky stopped, lips parted in a silent cry. “Of course,” he breathed to himself.

 

Of course everything would fall apart.

 

“You’re a coward,” Steve went on. “I thought you were brave, James, I really did. I was so convinced that you were this beautiful person, but everything was just a fucking lie, wasn’t it? You, James Buchanan Barnes, are a _coward_.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky gasped, eyes rapidly filling with tears as his legs started to go weak. “I didn’t do this. I never lied to you.”

 

“Just stop,” Steve whispered fiercely. “Stop.”

 

“Please, just believe me. I love you. God, I love you.”

 

Without warning, Steve’s hand made a connection with Bucky’s cheek, the crack of stinging skin ringing into the silence like the seconds following a lone gunshot.

 

“Oh,” Bucky whimpered. He slowly sank to his knees, clutching the side of his face as the tears started to spill.

 

“Go to hell, Barnes,” Steve said thickly, turning on heel abruptly and slamming the front door in Bucky’s face.

 

“Oh,” Bucky repeated, leaning his head against the door. A full sob racked his body, muscles contracting as he fell apart. “Come back.” He pressed a fist into his mouth, shoulders shuddering.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” his mother said, her voice cutting through the fog like cold steel.

 

Bucky looked up at her, eyes red and dripping. She looked like a stranger. Unyielding and powerful and more furious than he’d ever seen her.

 

“Get out of this house right now.”

 

 

 

“Pepper?” Bucky croaked into the receiver.

 

“James?” she said, alarmed by the awful sound of his voice.

 

“Could you... come pick me up?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Where are you?”

 

“I... I don’t know.”

 

There was a sound of a struggle for a minute before Tony’s voice greeted his ears. “James, we’re coming. We’ll be there in five.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“If you were going to ask how I knew where you were, it’s because I’m tracking your phone,” Tony said, sounding almost smug.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Stay on the line, pal. We’re on our way.”

 

Tony’s car pulled up to the curb where Bucky was standing.

 

“What happened?” Pepper asked tightly.

 

Bucky looked at his feet. He was only wearing socks down there. She hadn’t even let him put on his shoes. “I got kicked out.”

 

“Why?!”

 

Bucky stayed silent, climbing into the back seat and curling into a ball.

 

“James,” Pepper demanded.

 

Bucky slowly looked up at her. “She found out about me and Steve.”

 

Tony whirled around. “Shit. We have to tell him.” He actually sounded worried.

 

Bucky closed his eyes. “Don’t. He’s the one who told her.”

 

Tony and Pepper were ominously quiet.

 

Then.

 

“WHY?!”

 

Bucky clamped his teeth down on his knuckle to keep from crying again. “Uh. He dumped me because he thought I was cheating on him.”

 

Tony set his jaw. “And was his accusation true?”

 

Bucky’s eyes screwed shut, and his face contorted as a quiet sob broke through. “I don’t know what happened. He- there was this picture- and it looked like- and I didn’t, I couldn’t, how _could_ I?”

 

“James,” Pepper said calmly.

 

Bucky took a deep breath. “I would die before I cheated on Steve. You have to believe me.”

 

Tony pursed his lips in thought.

 

“Somebody had to have forged a picture. I don’t know. It looked like it was me, but it wasn’t.”

 

“I’ll talk to Steve,” Tony finally said.

 

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Please don’t. I can’t-“

 

“Why not?”

 

Bucky looked away. “I can’t face him again. We’re going to college in different cities anyway. It wasn’t like it was ever going to work, even without that picture.”

 

Tony and Pepper exchanged glances. “There’s still like a month before we move in.”

 

Bucky’s head snapped up. “Oh my god,” he choked out. “I can’t pay for school. Fucking shit. My parents kicked me out. I can’t go. Fucking... I’m fucking worthless.”

 

Tony looked panicked. “Of course you can still go. Dammit, Barnes, I’m fucking loaded. My dad teaches at MIT, so I already get major discount on my tuition. We can switch or something, and I’ll still be able to pay for the rest. Mark my words, you are going to that school.”

 

This was a side to Tony that Bucky had never seen before. This side was furiously, righteously caring. Fiercely protective and loyal and loving in a way that snapped the remains of Bucky’s shattered heart.

 

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking for your permission. You can hate me all you want, but I’m paying your tuition. It’s not going to make a dent in my bank account, and you know it.”

 

Bucky went silent as the car started moving.

 

“You’re going to stay at Tony’s place until you guys move in,” Pepper said after a while.

 

Bucky shrugged.

 

It wasn’t like anything fucking mattered anymore.

 

 

 

“He’s been like this all week.”

 

Bucky dimly registered the words, but he didn’t care who said them to who. He was curled in the fetal position on Tony’s couch, wearing baggy sweats and staring blankly into space. Empty cartons of ice cream littered the floor below him. His hair was grimy and greasy and gross, and he had an impressive amount of stubble on his cheeks.

 

“James?”

 

Bucky ignored the voice, whoever it belonged to. He suddenly felt an intense wave of restlessness and lurched to his feet, stumbling to the bathroom without registering the concerned glances around him.

 

He braced his elbows on the sink, staring into the mirror.

 

Like a ghost, he imagined Steve’s fingers tugging through his hair. Steve had loved his hair so fucking much.

 

Bucky’s hands curled into fists, self-hatred blossoming anew.

 

He rummaged through the droors until he found a pair of scissors. He gave the stranger in the mirror another courtesy glance before almost violently starting to hack off the long strands of hair.

 

He didn’t stop until it looked like a normal hairstyle, albeit very sloppily done.

 

Bucky didn’t recognize himself and felt a surge of triumph.

 

He quickly showered, put his sweats back on, and exited the bathroom.

 

He took note of the people staring at him from the couch. Tony, Pepper, and Natasha all looked stunned.

 

Bucky squared his shoulders and swallowed roughly. When he spoke, his voice sounded scraped raw, gutted even. “I want you guys to start calling me Bucky.”

 

He could see the questioning gleams in their eyes but didn’t have the energy to explain the nickname right now.

 

Finally, Natasha said, “Okay.”

 

And that was that.

 

 

 

“Hey, Bucky! Someone’s on the phone for you!” Tony called from down the hall.

 

Bucky shuffled to the nearest house phone and murmured a tired, “’Lo?”

 

“BUCKY!” the voice screeched, and Bucky winced away.

 

“Becca? What are you doing?”

 

“I fucking visited home for my shitty summer vacation and to my surprise and horror, you were not there. Mumsy and Pops had the decency to inform me that you were, and I quote, ‘Dead to us.’”

 

Bucky sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes. “That sounds about right.”

 

“The fuck happened?”

 

“Long story,” Bucky muttered. “But the short version is that our viciously homophobic parents found out I was seeing a guy.”

 

“So they disowned you?!” Becca growled, seething.

 

“Well, yeah. What else did you expect?”

 

“I expect our parents to be a little more decent.”

 

“You’ve been out of the house for a long time,” Bucky snapped. “They don’t love me and they’re anything but decent.”

 

“Bucky...”

 

“Give it a rest, Becca. I’m going to MIT in the fall and Tony Stark is forcibly helping me financially. I’m better off.”

 

“You really don’t sound okay.”

 

Bucky shrugged. “Eh, I’ve got a helluva case of a broken heart, but that’s not incurable. I’ll be fine eventually.”

 

“This guy you were seeing broke your heart?” Becca demanded.

 

“Wasn’t his fault. Don’t blame him,” Bucky said softly, only just realizing how much he meant the words. Steve’s point of view was of a cheating James Barnes, and Bucky hadn’t been articulate enough to convince him otherwise.

 

Becca groaned a little bit. “Just so you know, I’m helping you move in to your dorm. While I was home, I managed to sneak a few of your things.”

 

“Thank you, Becca.”

 

“No problem, big brother.”

 

 

 

So Bucky went to college.

 

And he didn’t ever exactly move on, or explicitly recover. The whole situation with Steve wasn’t just something you woke up from and forgot about. It was an oozing, puss-filled, aching mess of scars. It was something alive and too raw to look at full-on. It was something that Bucky glanced at with lowered, ashamed eyes every fucking day but hurried past with tightened muscles.

 

It was something that tore apart everything and simultaneously seemed to affect nothing else.

 

The world kept spinning. Bucky kept going.

 

He threw himself into school, he became an engineer and slept around more than he ever thought he would and never called the guys back. He talked to Tony and Pepper because they were still somehow with him and occasionally held a conversation with Natasha over the phone.

 

And there was just something distinctly different about everything. Like a cheesy young adult novel, everything was marked in proper nouns: Before and After the Incident with Him.

 

Bucky’s heart never really healed right. It just scabbed over and Bucky kept itching at it absentmindedly, so that it looked nothing like what it had once been.

 

But Bucky was an engineer. And college went by way too quickly and suddenly he was in the real world and Tony was staring at him expectantly.

 

“Well?” he pressed, almost eagerly.

 

Bucky smiled at his friend, feeling a tension ease. “Of course, Tony. Of course I’ll work with you and take the world by storm.”

 

Tony cheered.

 

 

 

There were things that Bucky purposefully ignored.

 

“What do you fucking mean?” Tony snapped into his phone. “The fucking army? Is he insane?”

 

There was a pause as Bucky pretended not to listen.

 

“That’s the dumbest line of reasoning I have heard in my entire life. And I’m Tony fucking Stark.”

 

Tony sighed.

 

“Just tell him not to head off like some Robin Hood before saying good-bye.”

 

Tony hung up and rubbed a hand across his jaw in exhaustion.

 

“You okay? Who was that?” Bucky asked slowly.

 

Tony gave Bucky a fake smile. “That was Nat. About some shit a mutual friend of ours is dealing with very poorly.”

 

“Ah,” Bucky said, and abandoned the line of questioning.

 

Tony never brought it up again.

 

 

 

It was thundering outside and Bucky was driving.

 

He was absentmindedly humming to a new Katy Perry song, drumming his fingertips on the wheel as it got to the part where he knew the words.

 

Bucky glanced in his rearview mirror, squinting a little bit. It was hard to see out here, and he was getting a little twitchy.

 

Pepper called him, and Bucky accepted the call through his Bluetooth thing. “Heyya, Pep.

 

“Bucky, I need you over at the Tower. Tony’s drunk and getting moody and nostalgic and you know how bad Bruce and I are at dealing with that.”

 

Bucky chuckled. “Aw, man, I’m so glad you guys need me for something. I’m coming. Just- hold on. The visibility is really shitty out here right now.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said dismissively, calculating a good place to turn around. “Never say that Bucky Barnes is a reckless man.”

 

“Why, I would never say that,” Pepper said sarcastically.

 

Bucky grinned, eyes flicking forward. “You know, Pep-“

 

He didn’t finish his sentence.

 

Suddenly, there was a pair of bright lights in front of him, and panic seized in his chest. Bucky slammed on the breaks and yanked the wheel, and the world froze.

 

Bucky was driving-

 

And it was thundering-

 

His vision blanked out and his stomach plummeted. He couldn’t see what was going on but, god, he could fucking feel it. Something like an impact jarred him, heavy and harsh, and Bucky let out a scream as something started to painfully rip at him.

 

He couldn’t see anything.

 

But he could sure as fuck feel it.

 

And it felt

 

Like

 

He was

 

Dying.

 

 

 

“What?” Natasha demanded, nostrils flaring as she barked into the phone’s receiver. Steve winced sympathetically on behalf of whoever was on the other end of the line. “Oh my god.”

 

She started to pace, ripping at her hair. “But he’s alive?”

 

She stopped, pressing her free hand into her face. “But he’s alive?”

 

She let out an angry breath. “Don’t do anything stupid. Okay. I’m coming right now. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

 

Natasha hung up and didn’t even look at Steve as she frantically threw on a coat and mismatching shoes.

 

“Everything alright?” Steve asked.

 

Natasha gave him a tight smile. “A friend of mine is in the hospital. May not make it through the night. Sorry, Steve. I know tonight was supposed to be your night, but I’m going to have to take a rain check.”

 

Steve slowly rose from the couch. “You don’t need to go there alone, Nat. I’ll come with you.”

 

Natasha finally paused long enough to level him with A Look. “No, Steve,” she said firmly. “You stay put and watch a movie. This is mine to deal with, not yours.”

 

Steve didn’t necessarily agree, but he also didn’t voice another protest as Natasha practically stumbled out the door.

 

Steve stood, tense, in the apartment, and whispered, “See you later,” to the empty air.

 

 

 

Bucky woke up with a bitching headache.

 

He blinked in the sterile light and was terribly disoriented for several moments. His head lolled to the side and he saw Tony and Natasha slumped against each other in a single plastic seat.

 

Bucky’s mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls.

 

He was in a hospital.

 

“Tony?” he whispered.

 

Tony and Natasha, being Tony and Natasha, jolted each other awake and both scrambled to his bedside with varying degrees of desperation.

 

“You’re awake,” Tony breathed, looking like he was about to cry.

 

“Finally,” Natasha muttered, looking at anywhere but his face.

 

Bucky frowned. “What happened?”

 

They exchanged glances.

 

“You were in a car accident,” Natasha finally decided.

 

Bucky’s mouth went dry. “Bad?”

 

Tony nodded. “You almost bit the dust.”

 

Bucky’s heart started to hammer.

 

The machines beeped faster.

 

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t panic, bud. Just. Don’t look to your left for a little while, okay?” Tony begged.

 

Of course, Bucky’s head swiveled on his pillow over to his left side, and Bucky’s world collapsed inward.

 

“What.”

 

“James-“ Natasha began.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky said reflexively.

 

“Bucky.” He could practically hear her swallow. “A truck crushed half your body. You broke a few bones pretty badly, and you lost your left arm almost immediately upon impact.”

 

Bucky couldn’t see, tears choking him. “Why?” he breathed.

 

Somebody grabbed his hand- his only hand- and squeezed. “It could have been so much worse.”

 

But Bucky couldn’t hear anything anymore.

 

He let out a soft whimper, and everything went dark.

 

 

 

Bucky Barnes made it as far as the Denial stage.

 

And he stayed there.

 

And... actually started to make something good out of bad things.

 

He started up a new project with Bruce, working on bridging their two areas of expertise.

 

It took Tony about a month to convince him to be the test monkey.

 

And soon.

 

Bucky was wearing a robotic prosthetic neurologically connected to his brain, metal light enough that the strain wouldn’t tear him apart.

 

Bucky dealt with having only one arm for a year and a half, and then he didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

 

Bucky had made something good in his life.

 

And although his model was only a prototype, things felt good. Really good. Better than they had in a while.

 

That lasted until Tony made a flippant remark about his impersonal apartment and Bucky thought to himself, _I’ll show that bastard_.

 

 

 

Bucky Barnes was almost thirty years old and he hated crowds.

 

He felt sorely out of place in a worn red sweater and jeans, gloves hiding the awesome metal of his prosthetic. He wandered from painting to painting in the art gallery, about to call it quits, when he saw it.

 

The painting was made of different streaks of red. Angry and somehow sad, the slashing lines somehow came together into a landscape that wasn’t quite Brooklyn, but couldn’t be anything else.

 

Bucky didn’t realize how long he was staring at it until a voice came up behind him. “You like it?”

 

Bucky didn’t flinch. He made sure to keep his gaze forward. “It’s...” he began, trying to voice his feelings. “The artistry is amazing and it’s making me feel these... things,” he said hesitantly, helplessly awed. No piece of art had ever struck him like this before.

 

“Really?” the deep voice behind him sounded surprised. “You want it? Nobody else seems to like it.”

 

“I mean, it’s amazing.”

 

There was a soft chuckle. “You could probably snag it for like twenty bucks.”

 

Bucky smiled. “What, you the artist or something?”

 

“Actually...”

 

At the implications of this guy’s tone, Bucky turned around and was faced with a hulking wall of fucking muscle. His eyes immediately went to the guy’s very nice chest, admiring whoever lied to this man about his shirt size. His eyes reluctantly wandered up to his face, and Bucky frowned, feeling a sense of vertigo.

 

The guy had a wicked-sharp jawline, golden hair that shone like the sun, and these dorky glasses that shot static through Bucky’s brain. The guy looked up at him with a tiny, self-deprecating smile, and he stuck out his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

 

A whisper went through Bucky’s brain.

 

This could not be happening to him.

 

Bucky’s eyes went wide and he froze, deer in the headlights.

 

Steve finally seemed to catch on, eyes roaming over his face as his jaw went slack. “Holy shit. James?” he breathed.

 

Bucky didn’t need anything else to spur him into action.

 

He bolted for the doors, fumbling for his phone as he stumbled into the streets, leaving Steve standing in numb shock.

 

“Tony?” he gasped. “I need you right fucking now.”

 

 

 

“Tony,” Steve snapped urgently. “I know you’re getting these messages. Don’t fucking bullshit me. I also know that you’re still in touch with James Barnes. And I need you to get me in touch with him right fucking now, I swear to god, Tony-“

 

“What now?” Natasha asked from behind him, and he jumped a foot in the air. Steve’s phone clattered to the floor and he swore, bending down to pick it up and barking another threat before hanging up.

 

Steve turned to face Natasha, face ashen as he paced the length of their apartment in long strides. “James Barnes was at my gallery tonight. He wanted to buy the Brooklyn painting before he saw who I was and I-“ Steve cut himself off and stared at his friend helplessly. “I- I loved him, you know? I can’t...”

 

“Steve,” Natasha said, voice surprisingly grave. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing! I just want to- I don’t know. Meet for coffee or something. Catch up with him. He looked...” Steve flushed. “His hair...” He made a vague flapping gesture with his hand.

 

Natasha approached him, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Do you want to know why Clint and I broke up?”

 

“What?” Steve said, thrown by the non sequitur.

 

Natasha continued as though he’d said yes. “Remember Loki Odinson and how he always had access to all this shit and not-so-secretly hated everybody? Well, he got hold of a few nudes I sent Clint. I know, dumb of me. Whatever. Not the point. Loki knew how great Clint was at Photoshop, so he blackmailed him into forging some incriminating photos of James cheating on you. Clint told me about it before he dropped out of college and we broke up.”

 

Steve’s mouth hung agape. “I- _what_?”

 

“That’s right. Your breakup with James was a lie and you’ve been cursing him for cheating on you when he never really did.”

 

Steve blinked rapidly, horror dawning on his features. “No. That can’t be true.”

 

Natasha sighed, her face briefly crumpling before she straightened. “You fucked up his life majorly, you know.”

 

Shaking his head, Steve practically pleaded, “No.”

 

“His homophobic mom was there while you basically announced that you two had been fucking. They disowned him pretty quickly after that.”

 

“Why are you telling me all of this now?” Steve demanded hysterically.

 

Natasha shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s all in the past. And yeah, what’s happened changed the both of you, but James stood back up. He’s doing really well for himself. And you... you’re getting there.”

 

Steve dropped heavily onto the couch. “I couldn’t have... I didn’t mean to...”

 

Natasha placed a hand delicately onto his shoulder. “I know, Steve.”

 

Reflexively, Steve grabbed his phone and called Tony again. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked and raw. “Please, Tony. I have to make this right. I just can’t...” Trailing off, he had to stop to calm his breath before saying, “You know this could be good for me.” He hung up.

 

“You okay, hun?”

 

Steve shook his head, outstretching both arms towards her. “Cuddle,” he demanded, feeling his throat start to close.

 

Natasha gracefully sat on the couch and gathered Steve into her arms despite their size difference. She ran her fingers up and down his back and said, “I know this is a lot to take in. You need to sleep on it.”

 

“I can’t sleep,” Steve whispered. “I can never fucking sleep.”

 

Natasha gave him a little squeeze. “You can and you will. I promise.”

 

 

 

Bruce, Tony, and Bucky were sprawled across Tony’s elaborate loft in varying states of inebriation.

 

Bruce had just drunk a single beer, so he was incredibly sober in comparison to the other two. Tony was in a babbling, tipsy state, gesticulating wildly with his glass, whilst Bucky gloomily downed drink after drink, staring at the ground with red-rimmed eyes.

 

Suddenly, he interrupted his friend’s chatter.

 

“You know what fucking sucks the most about it? Steve never knew the fucking truth. He probably went through the rest of his life with major trust issues or whatever because of me. Or... whatever happened. Fucking sucks,” he slurred moodily.

 

Tony sighed. “Yeah, it sure as fucking shit does.”

 

For the eightieth time that night, Tony’s phone lit up with crappy ACDC music. Tony checked the screen and glanced at Bruce. Bruce gave him a knowing look.

 

“I just,” Bucky mumbled, “I just wanted him to have the best fucking life. He deserved the world and like, the universe, really. And like... how the fuck did he get so ripped? And tall? He was so fucking ripped, guys.”

 

Tony made a noncommittal noise. Bruce said, “Late puberty?”

 

“I can’t believe he recognized me. I can’t believe I recognized him.”

 

“It’s kind of a soul mate thing,” Tony declared. “More scotch?”

 

Bucky lurched over. “Yes, please.”

 

 

 

“Okay, Steve, I hear you, and we’ll meet for coffee to discuss the matter like proper adults. Say, Saturday at noon?”

 

 

 

“Hey, Buck-o, if it isn’t my second favorite cyborg. You. Me. Coffee. Saturday at noon. You in?”

 

 

 

Bucky stared into the depths of his coffee mug, contemplating the merits of being awake before 1:00 on a weekend. Something was horribly wrong with Tony fucking Stark.

 

He was so absorbed in this train of thought that the soft, mortified, “Oh no,” made him physically jerk.

 

Steve Rogers was staring at him, face pulled into a slow wince.

 

“Oh no,” Bucky echoed.

 

They mirrored each other for a moment, Steve standing, coffee cup clutched in a white-knuckled grip, and Bucky sitting, hands fisted on his lap beneath the table.

 

(Bucky silently thanked God for the cold weather. His prosthetic was safely hidden from Steve’s view.)

 

“Um. I think we’ve been set up.”

 

Bucky scrubbed his right hand across his jaw. “Sounds like it. Here, you may as well sit.”

 

Steve hesitated before slowly lowering himself into the seat across from Bucky.

 

It was painfully awkward for a terrible moment.

 

“Say it,” Steve finally snapped.

 

“How the fuck did this happen?” Bucky immediately demanded, nodding to Steve’s muscles.

 

Steve’s jaw was set in a familiar expression that screamed “FIGHT ME,” but there was something different about it. His spectacularly blue eyes weren’t alight with righteous fury. They were dull. Lightless. Bucky shivered. “Marvels of modern medicine combined with a late growth spurt,” Steve ground out.

 

“Fucking hell,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head almost sadly.

 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed tersely.

 

Another dreadful stretch of silence followed.

 

“What?” Bucky finally asked.

 

Steve looked down, eyes resolutely on his coffee. “I guess I just... Nat told me about...” Steve sighed, clearly struggling. “I wanted to apologize. For getting you disowned based on a forgery.”

 

Bucky blinked, surprised. “Oh. No worries. It, uh... It was a long time ago.”

 

Steve shook his head. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t change everything.” He looked up briefly.

 

Oh no. Was Steve talking about two things at once now? He was, wasn’t he?

 

Bucky carefully licked his lips, thinking his next words out. “It was just another obstacle to overcome, though.”

 

Steve held his gaze for a moment, as if testing Bucky’s veracity. “That’s one way of seeing things.”

 

Bucky shrugged, dropping his own gaze. “I try not to think about it,” he admitted. “Nat told you about Clint?” Bucky himself had found out about Clint’s involvement about twenty minutes after Natasha had.

 

Steve nodded. “The thing is, I would’ve done the same thing. If Loki had blackmailed me with your nudes.” Steve immediately colored. “Uh, not that you ever sent me any. Fuck... Sorry, James.”

 

Bucky forced a smile. “It’s okay. And, uh,” he swallowed, “if it’s okay with you, you can call me Bucky instead.”

 

Steve’s head snapped upwards. “ _Bucky_?”

 

Bucky ducked his head, embarrassed. “Uh, yeah. My middle name is Buchanan. So, when Becca was first learning to read, she thought it said Bucky, and then refused to call me anything else ever again. It... stuck.”

 

Steve was quiet. “I like that a lot better than James.”

 

Holy shit was he talking about two things at once again????

 

Bucky hoped so.

 

He chanced a small smile. “I do too.”

 

Steve didn’t exactly smile back, but he wasn’t frowning either. “So, catch me up on what Bucky’s been up to.” He faltered. “I mean, if you want to.”

 

Bucky actually grinned. “Bucky has been engineering for Stark Industries.”

 

Steve whistled. “Nice.”

 

“And I gather you’ve been arting?”

 

Steve traced a pattern on the table. “I’ve been getting back into it.” He didn’t offer anything else. Bucky didn’t know how to get more information without seeming invasive. “It’s currently a toss-up between sketching and painting. I love them both, though.”

 

“That Brooklyn piece was so fucking good.”

 

“Thanks.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

 

There was another incredibly awkward pause.

 

“So,” Bucky started, the syllable drawn out. Steve raised an eyebrow. “Uh. You’ve been in touch with Nat lately.”

 

Steve hardly reacted other than taking the smallest sip from his coffee. “She’s my roommate.”

 

Bucky blinked, startled. “Really?”

 

“Why’s that so outlandish?”

 

“No... I just thought I’d have heard about you if that was the case.” Bucky scowled at the table. “Unless they purposefully never talked about you around me.”

 

Steve shifted uneasily. “I guess that was a thing going on. I’ve been in touch with Tony too since I came back, so it’s not an unreasonable assumption.”

 

“Back from where?” Bucky asked, furrowing his brow.

 

Steve stared at a spot slightly behind Bucky’s head. “Classified.”

 

“What?”

 

Steve’s gaze shifted to his face. “I said it’s classified.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky mumbled, mouth feeling a little dry.

 

Steve seemed content with not saying anything else, so they both awkwardly sipped at their coffees in tense silence.

 

And that probably would’ve been the end of things for good, if it hadn’t been for the asshole that started shouting at the counter.

 

Steve turned ever so slightly to listen, back going ramrod straight.

 

“I fuckin _told_ you to put two pumps of caramel in this. Does this fucking taste like two damn pumps?” the guy demanded, slapping a cup in front of a terrified barista.

 

“I- I don’t know.”

 

“Well, newsflash. It doesn’t, you stupid fucking cunt.”

 

Steve was up from his seat in a flash, reaching the asshole within a second.

 

“Excuse me,” he said, tapping the guy on the arm with a deceptively polite manner.

 

The guy whirled around, clearly pissed at the interruption. Before he could say anything, Steve grabbed him by the collar and punched him in the face.

 

He took a step back. “Watch your fucking language and don’t be rude to your servers.” His voice was almost stern. Bucky bristled a little bit as the asshole sputtered from his half-collapsed spot on the counter.

 

Steve made his way to the table and quickly grabbed his jacket. “Come on,” he muttered.

 

Instinctually, Bucky stood and tried to keep up with Steve as he strode briskly out the door and into the cold afternoon.

 

“Steve,” Bucky said.

 

“What?” Steve called over his shoulder.

 

“The fuck was that all about?”

 

“He called her a cunt, Ja- uh- Bucky.”

 

“So? You didn’t have to punch him in the damned face.”

 

Steve turned around so suddenly that Bucky nearly collided into the ridiculous wall of muscle that was his chest. Steve looked almost livid. “Yeah, I did.”

 

“You didn’t,” Bucky snapped. “Or you could’ve at least given him a chance to shut the fuck up first.”

 

“I _thought_ -“

 

“No, you didn’t think at all. Don’t fucking lie to me, Rogers. You’re the same reckless asshole that you were in high school.”

 

Steve’s nostrils flared. “You _wish_ I was the same reckless asshole I was in high school.”

 

“So what if I do? So what if I romanticized the simpler time of my life, huh? So fucking what, Steve?”

 

They stood, chest to chest, both of them breathing harshly.

 

(Bucky very resolutely did not look at his lips. Angry Steve should _not_ turn him on.)

 

“You know what?” Steve said, turning his back, “I think I’m done here.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “Oh sure, when anybody else on the planet so much as thinks a rude thought, you’ve gotta hit them, but if I say something insulting? Forget it. Gotta lay down the gauntlet, right?”

 

Steve let out a little growl. “What _exactly_ are you insinuating, James?”

 

“Absolutely nothing, Rogers.”

 

Steve turned back around. “What is it? You want me to punch you too? Because I’m not going to do that. You’re my-“

 

“I’m your what?” Bucky interrupted. “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your best friend. Fuck, I’m not even your friend at all. So what’s stopping you?”

 

“Seems like the reasons are rapidly dwindling.”

 

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Bucky mocked sarcastically.

 

A muscle in Steve’s jaw kept twitching (why was that so hot- _shut up_ ). “You keep thinking of yourself as a kicked puppy and you’re expecting me to see you the same way. I don’t. I’m not going to fight you, Bucky. If this is all you wanted to say to me, then I’m done.”

 

There was a moment of quiet as they stared at each other.

 

Bucky ran a hand through his short hair, uncomfortable. “Sorry... I mean. It was really great seeing you again, at least just to get some closure, if not for anything else. I didn’t mean to get so...”

 

“Mad?” Steve finished, lips quirking humorlessly.

 

Bucky nodded.

 

Steve hesitated. “Look, I know this is incredibly weird but...”

 

A flare of hope bubbled up in Bucky’s chest.

 

“But maybe we could meet up again sometime. For something less stressful.”

 

Bucky looked down, face flushed. “I think I’d like that.”

 

They exchanged numbers, still twitchy from arguing, and Bucky was trying not to use his left arm in case Steve noticed something weird, but that did nothing to deter the warm feeling within.

 

“I guess I’ll see you later, Steve.”

 

Steve’s shoulders slumped into something that wasn’t quiet relaxation. “See you later, Bucky.”

 

 

 

(And if Tony got two very angry voicemails that day, it was of no consequence to his conscious.)

 

 

 

Steve and Bucky mainly saw each other in group outings after this encounter, since the fragmented pieces of their friend groups were only kept apart because of them.

 

And it was still a little weird- a lot weird- to see Steve. Especially in his muscular, tall body. At the same time, though, it seemed like he’d finally grown into his personality. It seemed like his outside finally matched his inside.

 

Or... something along those lines.

 

Because over the course of the times they’d seen each other again, Bucky had made three observations that unsettled him to the very core.

 

Number one: Steve hardly ever smiled.

 

Number two: He hadn’t witnessed Steve laugh with anything beyond a dry, half-assed chuckle.

 

Number three: There was no light in his eyes.

 

So excuse Bucky for being a little worried, but that shit wasn’t right. Steve Rogers had been bursting with fire, his whole being practically crackling with passion and strength.

 

But this Steve?

 

This Steve was quiet and grim. His quickness to anger hadn’t decreased, but the lack of fire in his eyes made everything seem almost black and white.

 

And Bucky was fucking worried.

 

Despite everything.

 

Bucky sighed heavily to himself, staring blankly at pedestrian traffic as he walked home from work.

 

He felt his phone start to ring and automatically reached into his pocket. Steve’s name lit up the screen and Bucky felt a stab of giddiness as he answered.

 

“Steve?”

 

“Buck?”

 

Bucky froze. Steve’s voice was a wreck. He sounded like he’d been crying or screaming or maybe both. Bucky’s prosthetic hand clenched on the phone.

 

“Steve? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 

There was a pause, too long to be natural, before Steve replied. “I’m... Where are you right now?”

 

Bucky made a frustrated noise under his breath. “Well, now I’m on my way to Nat’s place, assuming that’s where you are.”

 

He could practically hear Steve’s frown. “I can’t ask you to...”

 

“Don’t bullshit me. You sound like you drank a smoothie of badly mixed rusty nails.”

 

“That was a surprisingly colorful metaphor,” Steve joked weakly.

 

“Just stay on the line, pal. I’m coming. I’m on my way.”

 

Another pause.

 

“Don’t hang up?” Steve pleaded.

 

“Of course not,” Bucky whispered, and his voice was too soft to be considered strictly friendly.

 

They didn’t really speak as Bucky pushed his way through the New York crowd, settling for just listening to the other breathe.

 

About twenty minutes later, Bucky was clambering up the stairs to Natasha’s apartment. “Is the door unlocked?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Bathroom.”

 

Bucky pushed the door open and scrambled for the bathroom. He stood in front of the doorway before entering, clicking the “hang up” button.

 

Steve was just wearing a pair of boxers and a white wife-beater that displayed his frankly ridiculous shoulders. He was curled into a ball on the tile floor, looking like he’d gotten out of a tussle with a steamroller.

 

“Hey, Buck.”

 

Bucky dropped to his knees in front of Steve. “Jesus fucking Christ. What happened?”

 

Steve pressed his fingers into his eyes. “I kind of freaked out.”

 

“Why?”

 

Steve dropped his hand heavily and glared weakly at the ground. “If the water gets below a certain temperature, I kind of lose it.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky said softly.

 

Steve looked up, and his eyes were exhausted and dull and horrifyingly blank.

 

“You probably guessed that I had a stint in the army by now.”

 

“I was thinking something along those lines, yeah.”

 

“I was in the Special Forces. Captain Steven Grant Rogers, reporting for duty.” He attempted a mocking salute, the movement almost cynical. “I lasted about a tour and a half.”

 

“What happened?” Bucky prompted gently.

 

Steve was quiet. Then, “I wasn’t right in the head for a while. I mean, I’m still not, but... that’s irrelevant to the story. I didn’t join the army for the right reasons, and I hated the moral ambiguity of all of it. And I hated me. And I hated being alive.”

 

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath as if he’d been hit. Steve ignored him.

 

“So, when a mission went drastically wrong, I was so fucking glad that I was the one that was going to pay the price for it. See, there was this plane full of some really fucking classified technology that would’ve caused the end of the world. And I didn’t know how to fly a plane, but I was the only one on board, so I took the controls and...”

 

Steve swallowed heavily, his throat working slowly.

 

“And I thought about everything I’d lost and I didn’t want to be alive anymore. I just didn’t want any of it. I was so fucking done, Bucky. So, even though I could’ve figured something out, I crashed the plane into this lake off of Russia. When they found me, they said I’d almost died of hypothermia. Most of the time, I really fucking hate them for finding me before it was finally over.”

 

Bucky made a horribly wounded noise in the back of his throat, eyes clouded over.

 

“So. Cold water isn’t all that great for my psyche,” he finished tiredly.

 

“ _Steve_.”

 

“Yeah?” His head lolled to the side so that he could better look at Bucky.

 

“God- I- I’m so fucking glad you didn’t die. You gotta know that, right? You gotta know, Stevie.”

 

Steve didn’t say anything. He just blinked once, almost lazily.

 

Bucky sat back on his heels. “Here, let me... You should...” He felt a little hysterical as he removed his gloves and pulled off his shirt. Steve shifted a little, question marks practically popping up over his head, but he didn’t say anything.

 

Until Bucky’s cybernetic prosthetic was exposed.

 

Steve’s face immediately gaped open while simultaneously crumpling. “Oh my god, _Bucky_ ,” he whimpered, wrecked, and Bucky was selfishly glad that he was at least feeling something now.

 

“Car accident. Almost died. Lost an arm instead. Spent a couple years designing this.”

 

Steve raised his arms halfway, trembling. “Can I- can I?”

 

After a beat of hesitation, Bucky nodded.

 

Steve reached out for him, fingers dancing over the interconnected seams of metal. The pressure sensors lit up at the delicate touch, and Bucky gave an involuntary, full-body shudder. Steve’s other hand tentatively skirted along the ugly peppering of scars across his chest, and Bucky was captivated.

 

“I was on leave and Natasha got a call about a friend in the hospital because of an accident. That was this, wasn’t it?”

 

Bucky was having trouble processing words right now, but managed a breathy, “I assume so.”

 

“You almost died,” Steve said brokenly.

 

“So did you,” Bucky retaliated, voice thickening.

 

Steve pressed his lips together, as if to say that he wasn’t as important or some absolute bullshit. Instead of waiting for him to say it out loud, Bucky reached for Steve and pulled him close to his chest. Steve gave a blissful sigh and curled into him, so that he was half-on Bucky’s lap and entirely tucked under his chin.

 

Steve continued to play with Bucky’s arm as Bucky let his free hand stroke up and down Steve’s back.

 

He watched Steve’s hands for a while. “You have the same stupid-ass artist fingers.”

 

And it was true. Steve’s fingers hadn’t really changed.

 

Steve’s fingers tightened a little on the palm of Bucky’s prosthetic hand. “I’m sorry the rest of me is so fucked up.”

 

“Stevie, please, you have to understand how much I need you here. Alive.”

 

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment. “You called me Stevie.”

 

“You want me to stop?”

 

He considered. “No.”

 

“And for the record, I love it when you call me ‘Buck.’”

 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Buck.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re such a fucking punk.”

 

“Jerk,” Steve whispered, and Bucky could feel the warmth of his breath on his chest as Steve curled into him even more tightly.

 

Bucky closed his eyes, letting the whole afternoon wash over him. He wasn’t surprised when some tears started to escape.

 

He _was_ surprised when Steve reached up with the hand that wasn’t holding his arm to swipe at the tears. “None of that,” he whispered.

 

Not trusting his voice, Bucky nodded, before crushing Steve back into their previous position.

 

If they fell asleep like that, the only one to judge was Natasha, who came home a few hours later and snapped a quiet picture and let them be.

 

 

 

With the whole tearful confession hour thing gotten out of the way, it was like a wall had been brutally demolished between them. Suddenly, Steve was texting Bucky selfies of little daily updates, and they were calling each other just because they felt like it, and when they hung out, they could casually touch each other again.

 

(At least, Bucky could act totally causal on the outside while screaming internally at a pitch only dogs could hear because holy fuck Steve was _touching him-_ )

 

It was the best thing that had happened in Bucky’s entire life.

 

Steve Rogers was the best thing that had ever happened in Bucky’s entire life.

 

The first time he got Steve to laugh (like an actually fucking laugh) was pretty much marked on Bucky’s calendar. He didn’t even remember exactly what he’d said- some snide and clever comment on a movie they were watching that Bucky had spent ten minutes trying to come up with. It didn’t really matter. In the end, he got to see Steve tipping his head back, eyes going all squinty as his laugh crackled through the room.

 

That single moment had made Bucky’s _year_.

 

So what if he made it his goal in life to see Steve crack a genuine smile? So what if he did anything he could to hear that laugh again? So what if it seemed like his life was starting to revolve around Steve Rogers yet again?

 

They were lounging at Steve’s apartment and watching _Parks and Rec_ when Steve’s phone started to ring.

 

“Heyya Nat.”

 

His eyes slid over to Bucky and Bucky pointedly threw a piece of popcorn at his head. It hit Steve on the cheek and in retaliation, Steve jabbed the sole of Bucky’s foot. Bucky squeaked.

 

“Um. Well. Bucky’s here too.”

 

Bucky stopped, trying to listen. “What?” he asked.

 

Steve frowned. “Nat ran into Clint Barton at a bar and she forgave him and she’s bringing him home to bang him.”

 

Bucky almost choked on his popcorn. “For real? Do we have to leave or can I see this?”

 

Steve turned his attention back to the phone. “Are we allowed to stay here, or is the sex going to involve outside-the-bedroom foreplay?”

 

Steve grinned at Bucky. “We’re good to lurk.”

 

“Yay,” Bucky said, a little light-headed from the warmth of Steve’s smile.

 

He hung up and started playing with Bucky’s toes again from where they were resting on his lap.

 

“You know, you’re like the physical manifestation of Leslie Knope.”

 

Steve gave him a quizzical look. “How so?”

 

“Um. Seriously? Both of you are honest, hard-working, bossy, stubborn as hell blondes who want to fight everything.”

 

Steve grinned again. Bucky was going to have a heart attack.

 

“Then who are you?”

 

Bucky pretended to think about it. “I’m April because I’m grumpy.”

 

Steve shook his head. “Nope. You’re Ben. Sorry, nerdzilla.”

 

Bucky’s face heated. “I can always count on you to call me out, can’t I, Stevie?”

 

Steve’s lips quirked a little. “You’re only just learning this?”

 

Two episodes later, the door opened, and Natasha came breezing in, followed by an older version of what he’d last seen of Clint.

 

“Oh, right. Sorry, Clint. My roommate and his best friend are here tonight,” Natasha said casually, as though she’d only just remembered.

 

Clint stopped in his tracks and gaped at Steve and Bucky. “Oh shit. This looks really bad, doesn’t it?”

 

“Hey, Barton,” Steve said distractedly. Bucky had been playing with his hair.

 

“Long time no see,” Bucky added. “How are things?”

 

Clint eyed them warily. “Okay-ish.”

 

“You’re an Olympiad, right?”

 

Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

 

“Two gold medals and a silver,” Natasha added helpfully. “He trained Kate Bishop.”

 

“You act like we follow Olympic sports,” Bucky said with an eye roll. “No offense.”

 

“None taken.” Clint continued to stare. “I’m sorry, but did you guys, like... work things out? After I wrecked everything?”

 

Steve looked at him. “Yup.”

 

“Hey, Stevie, didn’t we have that thing to go to tonight?” Bucky asked, suddenly feeling a wave of pity for poor Clint.

 

“Right. That thing.” He rose from the couch, severely unbalancing Bucky. “I’ll be back in the morning, Nat. Have fun.”

 

Bucky followed him out of the apartment, and as soon as the door was shut, they dissolved into breathless giggles.

 

“Did you see his face?” Bucky gasped.

 

“I know! He fucking deserved it, though, Buck, I swear.”

 

Bucky grabbed Steve by the wrist, feeling childish and giddy. “Come on. Slumber party at Casa Barnes.”

 

“Sounds fancy. Any idea if I can get in if I’m just wearing sweats?”

 

Bucky gave him a curt once-over. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see the bouncer’s verdict, but I’m pretty sure your ass will make up for any slouch in fashion.”

 

Steve’s brow furrowed. “My ass?”

 

Bucky flushed but refused to back down now. “Yeah, you know. Have you seen it? You have to know that you have the best ass that has ever blessed this planet.”

 

Steve was turning red. “I- I do not!”

 

“Oh my god, you so do, Steve, don’t even try.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Steve muttered, “Fine. But for the record, you have the best lips.”

 

Bucky stared at him, not exactly sure how to respond, his heart hammering. “Um-“

 

“Did you say slumber party? That means pillow fights, right? Come on, let’s go,” Steve blurted hurriedly, walking briskly for the lobby.

 

Bucky waited in silence for a beat before following.

 

 

 

So, there were good days and bad days for everyone.

 

It just so happened that Steve’s bad days were usually bad weeks, and the badness tended to implode within him so that nothing ever seemed to matter anymore.

 

And unfortunately, today was the start of another bad indeterminate period of time.

 

Usually when Steve got all quiet and told him that he needed to be by himself, Bucky respected his wishes and left him alone until Steve inevitably called him back with a croaking, “Sorry,” but Bucky was feeling brave today.

 

“I can stay,” he said gently. “We don’t have to do anything. We can just lie down and stare at the wall, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

 

Steve stared at him for a long time. Finally, he whispered, “Okay. But it’s going to be really boring for you.”

 

Steve was lying on his bed in unwashed sweats. His stubble was starting to come in and his hair was all matted and he smelled like shit, but Bucky hardly saw any of that, focusing on the lack of life to Steve’s eyes instead.

 

Steve lifted a limp wrist, and Bucky wordlessly climbed into bed next to him, kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket aside as he went. Steve immediately threw and arm across Bucky’s chest and snuggled into his side, eyes open and vacant.

 

Bucky closed his eyes, feeling content for once, and napped.

 

Later, Steve mumbled into his shoulder, “’M a little bit depressed, Buck.”

 

Bucky rolled over and wrapped Steve in a hug to acknowledge the weight of the confession and offer comfort. “But I love you anyway. Everybody loves you, Stevie. Don’t you forget that for one second.”

 

(Bucky realized what he’d said about fifteen minutes later but neither of them brought it up again.)

 

Even though Bucky had to work most of the days of it, he still ended up coming back to Steve’s apartment instead of his own and would wordlessly cuddle Steve in the fragile hope that it could pull him out of his self-destructive thoughts.

 

On the sixteenth day, Bucky came back to the apartment to find Steve humming to a Green Day song as he painted in the kitchen. He turned and greeted him with a tentative grin. “Hey, Buck.”

 

And Bucky fell in love with him a little bit more.

 

 

 

“Wait, _what_?”

 

Clint looked amused from where he sat with his arm around Natasha. “I found the twins in a dumpster in Eastern Europe. Couldn’t have that. I found Kate making trouble for her rich dad. Then Kate got engaged to America Chavez, you know, the kick-boxer, so I basically have four kids. Plus Lucky.”

 

“And the twins are with...?”

 

“Kate and America. They like to babysit. I don’t know how. Wanda and Pietro are demon children. Wanda’s first word was literally ‘shit.’”

 

Bucky dissolved into a peel of laughter and Steve whacked him on the arm.

 

“And the ex-wife?” Tony asked skeptically.

 

Clint grinned. “That was a drunken Vegas thing. Got divorced as soon as vacation ended.”

 

Tony looked him up and down. “All right. You’re excused and forgiven, but only because your life story completely checks out.”

 

Clint and Natasha high-fived without looking at each other. They smirked at the same time. God, they were so in-tune it was _weird_.

 

Bucky and Steve exchanged glances, both of them wrinkling their noses. Bucky was glad they were on the same page.

 

“Bucky, do the honors,” Tony said with a flourish.

 

Bucky gracefully rose to his feet. “Clint Barton of Iowa, kneel.” Clint snickered and clambered over to kneel in front of Bucky. “Thou hast been formally reinstated in our groupeth. Huzzah!” And then he tapped each of his shoulders with his toe.

 

“That is so not how you do it,” Steve said.

 

“You’re mean,” Bucky complained, turning around and flopping dramatically onto Steve’s lap. Clint laughed, returning to Natasha’s side. Steve started running his fingers through Bucky’s hair and Bucky made an appreciative noise.

 

Pepper breezed into the room, stopping to kiss Tony on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. Meetings kept me in all day. What did I miss?”

 

“Clint’s back,” Tony informed her.

 

“Okay. I’ll be needing the details later.”

 

“Right.”

 

Bucky tuned them out, relishing in the feeling of Steve’s proximity. “Hey, Steve?”

 

“Mmmm?”

 

The words were caught in his throat, so he ended up saying nothing.

 

And Steve thankfully didn’t press. He just pulled Bucky closer.

 

 

 

Steve was scrolling through his phone, his head resting in Bucky’s lap, when he said, “Huh. Peggy Carter just got married.”

 

Bucky carefully focused all of his attention on Steve. “To who?”

 

“Some chick named Angie Martinelli. I don’t know her. Wait. She’s famous. She’s on Broadway. You know her?”

 

“I don’t really follow Broadway,” Bucky admitted. Then, “You okay?”

 

Steve was still looking at his phone. “Yeah, of course. Peggy and I were together a helluva long time ago.”

 

“Yeah, but time doesn’t really just erase feelings.”

 

Steve put down his phone, staring gravely up at Bucky’s face. “You’re right,” he agreed slowly.

 

“Damn straight,” Bucky muttered.

 

Steve grabbed Bucky’s prosthetic hand and squeezed. “Buck. I’m okay. I moved on.”

 

Bucky’s stomach plummeted. “Right.”

 

 

 

“We’re unveiling the new Stark Industries prosthetics next week,” Bucky said casually.

 

Steve smiled. “Is that so?”

 

Bucky nodded. “Wanna come?”

 

Steve grabbed Bucky’s shoulders and whispered fiercely, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

(Somebody needed to stop this man from killing Bucky in such a terribly cruel way.)

 

 

 

It was a gala-type ordeal. Tony and Pepper were giving him and Bruce a pep talk in the weirdly coordinated way they had as Bucky tried to pay attention.

 

“Don’t talk science. They hate when they can’t understand it. Just keep your speech to simple, peasant-minded physics and be brief. They have the attention spans of Chihuahuas.”

 

“And no sarcasm,” Pepper added sternly. “They’ll take it seriously.”

 

Bucky swallowed, feeling like his tie was going to suffocate him. He looked at Bruce, who looked even tenser. “I guess I can do most of the talking?”

 

Bruce gave him a grateful look. “You know your way to a man’s heart.”

 

“I try.”

 

Before he knew what was happening, they were being ushered onto a stage. Bucky was struck by the blinding lights. He couldn’t really see anything.

 

Squinting a little, he began. “Uh. Hello. My name is James Barnes and this is Dr. Bruce Banner. We’ve been collaborating on a project to revolutionize the prosthetics industry. Last week, it was approved, and now it’ll be available for public use...” He trailed off, unsure where to go.

 

Bruce leaned in and added, “The prosthetics are connected to the nervous system to allow almost the same function as a regular limb.”

 

Bucky nodded, relieved.

 

Somebody shouted, “How do we know it works?”

 

What a dumb question.

 

Bucky rolled up his sleeve and held up his metal arm. “Gee, I mean, it’s been working pretty decently for me.” He rolled his eyes.

 

Wait. Sarcasm.

 

He cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah. It’s not really a perfect replacement for what I’ve lost, but it’s probably the closest we can get to it. It’s amazing. You guys have no idea.”

 

Suddenly, more people were shouting. Bruce flinched a little bit next to him and Bucky started to close up, insanely uncomfortable.

 

Which was the perfect time for Tony to breeze on stage. He stepped between Bucky and Bruce, throwing his arms across their shoulders. “Well, haven’t these men been fantastic? Give a hand for our resident geniuses- not a literal hand- we’ve got that covered here at Stark Industries.”

 

Taking the cue from the applause, Bucky and Bruce hurried off the stage, seamlessly joining the crowd as they watched Tony charm them over.

 

Bruce gave a sigh. “I thank god for him every day.”

 

In a rare moment of pure affection, Bucky gave Bruce a soft smile. “Yeah.”

 

Soon, Natasha and Clint moseyed over to them. Clint was being tailed by a girl in her early twenties wearing a stunning purple dress. “You did good, boys,” Natasha said.

 

“Is it true you actually have a robot arm?” the girl blurted.

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow as Clint said, “Oh my _god_ , Katie. You can’t just ask people if they have a robot arm.”

 

“I do... I didn’t actually just lie to the press.”

 

Kate grinned. “That is so badass.”

 

“Someone say badass?” a Latina girl said, sidling up to Kate and throwing an arm around her waist. “Hey, chica.”

 

“My love,” Kate said dryly. “Okay, Clint. We’re going to leave early to get the twins. Have fun and don’t drink yourself into a stupor.”

 

“Hey, those days are over. Mostly,” Clint said. The girls snickered to themselves as they walked away. “Sorry about them. They don’t know how to talk to people.”

 

“That’s okay,” Bruce said. “We’re pretty used to that. You know, Tony Stark.”

 

“That I do,” Clint agreed.

 

Conversation tapered off as Clint and Natasha both looked at something over Bucky’s shoulder. They nudged each other subtly. “What?” Bucky asked.

 

“What’re we talking about?” came Steve’s glorious voice.

 

Bucky turned around and nearly died on spot.

 

Steve was wearing slacks and a waistcoat over a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

 

Instead of dying, Bucky’s mind clung on to Steve’s face and asked weakly, “Where the fuck did your hipster glasses go?”

 

Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m wearing contacts. Figured this was a special enough occasion to warrant it.”

 

Was he even real?

 

“WELL!” Natasha exclaimed loudly. Bucky didn’t even turn around. “CLINT AND I ARE GOING TO GO DANCING. RIGHT, CLINT?”

 

“We are-? OW! No hitting!”

 

“I’m just going to... wait for Tony to be done with his speech,” Bruce added, and they all slunk away as Steve and Bucky continued to stare at each other.

 

“You did good, Buck. Real good.”

 

“You think so?” Bucky asked, vaguely surprised.

 

“Of course. You’re great at everything you do,” Steve said, eyes going all soft.

 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, hands twitching restlessly. He blinked and they had somehow migrated to rest on Steve’s shoulders.

 

Steve reached out, hands coming to grab Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s eyes wandered down to Steve’s chest, and his hands started moving down Steve’s sides, almost clutching the fabric of his clothes.

 

Leaning forward, Steve rested his forehead against Bucky’s. Bucky’s eyes drifted shut, brain exploding from the stimulus.

 

“You’re amazing,” Steve breathed. Bucky shivered at the feeling of his breath. “You have no idea, Buck, how amazing you are.”

 

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked, fists tightening at Steve’s sides.

 

“What?” Steve asked, and he could feel his brow furrowing.

 

“That’s what we lost,” Bucky said, desperate to explain. “The whole cheating thing may have been a huge-ass lie, but that didn’t mean we didn’t lose our trust in each other. It was gone the moment you saw that picture- don’t even try denying it. I need to know that we’ve at least built that back up.”

 

Steve didn’t say anything, leaning back a little to look Bucky in the eye.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, my trust in you was restored the moment you showed me your arm.”

 

Bucky’s breath caught.

 

“Really?”

 

Steve nodded. “Do you trust _me_?”

 

Bucky gave a half-hysterical laugh. “I don’t show my arm to people I don’t trust.”

 

“You just showed it to a room full of strangers.”

 

Bucky tisked. “Details. I’m trying to be _romantic_.”

 

“Not working too well, Buck.”

 

Bucky’s breath hitched as he looked at Steve and saw an alien glimmer of something like tentative happiness flash through Steve’s eyes.

 

“What?” Steve whispered, giving a little grin.

 

Bucky reached up to touch his face. He was going to say something clever, but Steve ruined it when he turned into the touch, pressing his lips softly to Bucky’s fingertips.

 

“I love you,” was what Bucky said instead.

 

Steve’s eyes snapped open, and his face went intense. He pulled Bucky so that their chests were pressed together. “What did you say?”

 

Bucky’s face was turning red. That much he knew. “I love you,” he repeated.

 

“You do?” Steve asked, voice sounding small.

 

“Stevie, I don’t know why you sound so damn surprised. Everything you do makes me love you even more.”

 

Steve’s hands were digging into Bucky’s hips. “Even punching a guy in the face?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Even lying in a gross mess while doing nothing?”

 

“God, yes.”

 

Steve angled Bucky’s head back and pressed the gentlest, most lingering kiss to his forehead. Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut. “I love you too,” Steve murmured against his skin.

 

And Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Steve by the back of the neck and tugged him down so that their mouths came together.

 

Steve sighed, his breath warming Bucky’s lips, and Bucky could hardly believe this was real. A little bit over a decade ago, Bucky was sure he’d never see Steve again, much less that Steve would love him again. Bucky tried to communicate his elation through the kiss, not caring how uncoordinated it felt.

 

They were clinging to each other, eyes shut as they relearned the shape of each other’s mouths, the taste of their lips, the strength of their touch.

 

Bucky leaned back, eyes drinking in Steve’s presence. “Wanna get out of here?”

 

Steve huffed a laugh. “Buck, it hasn’t even been an hour.”

 

“I don’t care. I’ve waited so long without even knowing I was waiting.”

 

Steve’s eyes were soft. He leaned in so that his lips were brushing Bucky’s ear and whispered, “I want to suck your dick.”

 

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back, as Steve watched bemusedly. “Jesus, Stevie,” he snickered, before pulling him in for another, shorter kiss, all smiles and giggles.

 

“I wasn’t exactly kidding, though.”

 

Bucky felt a jolt go through his stomach and muttered, “Oh my god.” He craned his neck. “I have to find Tony and tell him we have to go right now.”

 

“Just text him.”

 

“He’ll kill me if I ‘just text him,’ Steve.”

 

Steve made a tisking noise. Bucky ignored him, grabbing his hand and tugging him along. “Come on.”

 

They found Tony next to the bar with Pepper and Bruce. “We’re leaving,” Bucky informed them, fingers clenching Steve’s hand urgently.

 

Tony grinned lecherously. “See, Rogers. I told you that suit was a good move.”

 

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. We are very happy that you two worked things out.”

 

“Be safe,” Bruce added with a wink.

 

Bucky hated them all. “Okay, bye.” He turned, pushing Steve’s chest a little bit.

 

Steve hailed them a cab and refused to let Bucky pay for it. Then, he proceeded to practically ravage Bucky’s neck with his mouth. Bucky’s hand was fisted in his hair. “You are such a little shit,” he said, and his voice came out breathy.

 

“No fucking in the back seat,” the cab driver groused, not even turning around.

 

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, sitting back with a smug pull to his lips.

 

Bucky hated him too.

 

Hours later, Bucky was lazily stroking Steve’s sweaty back, staring down at Steve’s face.

 

He was tucked under him like he still thought of himself as small, and Bucky resisted the urge to compare him to a kitten.

 

Steve was drawing patterns on Bucky’s chest with his finger, but he clearly felt Bucky’s gaze. “What is it?” he asked.

 

“I like you better with glasses,” Bucky said, pleased that his grave tone didn’t waver.

 

Steve smiled, eyes flicking up to his face. “No, really.”

 

“Really,” Bucky maintained.

 

“Bucky...”

 

“Fine,” he relented. “I want to keep you forever. That isn’t weird, is it?”

 

Steve pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Considering you and me? No, it’s not.”

 

Any ounce of tension left leaked from Bucky’s body. “Thank god. So, you’ll be my boyfriend, punk?”

 

“Wow, again?” Steve pretended to sound exasperated. “I dunno, Buck, you get real grouchy in the mornings.”

 

“That’s because I use up all my sweetness on you.”

 

“Aw, is that supposed to make me feel honored?”

 

“Quite frankly, yes.”

 

Steve sniggered, propping himself up on an elbow so that he could better get to Bucky’s mouth for a beautifully slow kiss. “Yes. I’ll be your boyfriend. Did you even have to ask? You’ve been my Bucky for a while now.”

 

“Your Bucky,” Bucky echoed, stupid grin plastered on his face.

 

Steve blushed. “Shut up.”

 

“No, no, I like that. I like that a lot.”

 

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” Steve said with a tremendous sigh.

 

Bucky let his Brooklyn accent take over as he drawled, “Oh, but I can make it worth your while, doll.”

 

Steve gave a little laugh. “That only works on Tony and you know it.”

 

Bucky nudged his leg between Steve’s thighs. He smirked. “Is that so?”

 

Steve’s breath hitched. “Shut up.”

 

“Make me.”

 

And, well.

 

Steve did.

 

 

 

For their first anniversary, Steve gave him the red Brooklyn painting.

 

Bucky gave an elated laugh before kissing him and kissing him.

 

 

 

Bucky Barnes was 32 years old when he called over his shoulder, “Hey, Stevie, what do you want for dinner?”

 

He was 32 when Steve didn’t respond, and Bucky turned around.

 

He was 32 when his jaw dropped at the sight before him.

 

“I, uh,” Steve began awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand.

 

Bucky launched himself over the back of the couch and said, “What-“

 

Steve glanced down at the box in his hand, the golden band of a ring catching the light for a moment. He looked back up, embarrassed. “I bought a ring.”

 

“I- I can see that.”

 

“I’m not doing this right.”

 

“I don’t really give a damn.”

 

Blushing, Steve went on. “So, uh... A while back, before we ran into each other again, Sam asked me what made me happy.”

 

Sam was Steve’s long-time therapist. Bucky had met him a couple years ago. He was almost sickeningly amazing.

 

“I told him I didn’t know. And that’s still kind of true to an extent, but... God, Bucky. You make me so fucking happy. Every day, you make me feel like I’m going to burst with it. You have no idea.”

 

Bucky swallowed, throat tight.

 

“Before I met you again, I was in a really bad place. And you- you have no idea how much you helped me, Buck, you don’t-“

 

Steve took a deep breath, locking eyes with Bucky. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know that. I love you. Marry me?”

 

Bucky made a small noise in the back of his throat before actually leaping into Steve’s arms, legs wrapping around his waist. Steve, surprised, tottered for a second before they crashed to the ground, Steve landing on his back.

 

Bucky used the momentum to kiss him, deep and filthy and intimate.

 

When he pulled back, Steve dazedly whispered, “So is that a yes?”

 

Steve Rogers still had depression. He still was slow to smile and even slower to laugh. His eyes were still duller than they’d been before everything happened. But more and more frequently, Bucky would catch a glimmer of mischief or a glint of passion lighting the life back into his eyes. And Bucky would give his left arm a billion times over to see that happen again and again.

 

The tears started to gather as Bucky saw the life gleaming back from Steve’s eyes, love dancing across his expression.

 

And Steve wasn’t perfect, but neither was Bucky, and that just made _everything_ strangely perfect.

 

So, Bucky said the only thing he could.

 

“Hell fucking yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thecommodoresquid)


End file.
